OLFE^BEF^G 


William  ©laeK 


L I B RAHY 

OF   THE 

U  N  IVE.R.SITY 

OF    ILLI  NOIS 

v.l 


WOLFENBERG 


•  ." 


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WOLFENBERG 


BY 

WILLIAM  BLACK 


IN  THREE   VOLUMES. 
VOL.  L 


LONDON: 
SAMPSON   LOW,   MARSTON    &    COMPANY 

LIMITED, 

Fetter  Lane,  Fleet  Street,  E.C. 
1892. 

[All  rights  reserved  ] 


LONDON : 

FEINTED  BT  WILLIAM   CLOWES   AND  SONS,   LIMITED, 

STAMFORD   STttEET   AND   CHARING   CROSS. 


< 
« 


v.l 


['  Of  Poseidon,  the  mighty  God,  I  begin  my  Jay,  Poseidon 
who  shakes  the  earth  and  the  sea  unharvested,  God  of 
the  deep,  who  possesses  Helicon  and  wide  Aegae.  A 
double  honour  have  the  Gods  given  thee,  oh  Earthshaker, 
to  be  at  once  the  tamer  of  steeds  and  the  saviour  of  ships. 
Then  hail,  Poseidon,  the  girdler  of  the  world,  the  dark- 
haired'  deity ;  and  do  thou,  oh  Blessed  one,  keep  a 
kindly  heart,  and  succour  seafaring  men.' — A.L.] 


I1 


4 


CONTENTS  OF   VOL.  I. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Fortuitous  Atoms      ...             ...  ...         1 

II.  Two  Discoveries                ...             ...  27 

III.  A  Deviation               ...             ...  ...       51 

IV.  An  Introduction               ...             ...  77 

V.  A  Horoscope              ...             ...  ...     103 

VI.  "  Vix  e  Conspectu  Sicul^e  Telluris"  131 

VII.      The  Ear  of  Dionysius           ...  ...     158 

VIII.  "  To  Athens  shall  the  Lovers  wend  "        187 

IX.  Facing  Contingencies               ...  ...     216 


WOLFENBERG. 

CHAPTEK  L 

FORTUITOUS   ATOMS. 

What  is  the  space,  then,  that  lies  between 
comedy  and  tragedy  ?  In  this  instance,  it 
was  merely  the  breadth  of  a  table  in  the 
saloon  of  the  Orient  s.s.  Orotania.  For  here 
were  we,  the  most  careless  and  irresponsible 
set  of  creatures  that  ever  were  shaken  into 
seats  by  the  dice-box  of  Fate  (the  Purser)  ; 

and  there  were  they But  let   us   begin 

at  the  beginning. 

We  first  noticed  them  as  they  were  crossing 
the  pier  at  Tilbury,  on  their  way  to  the  tender. 
There   was   an   elderly  lady,    sallow    of  face, 


VOL.  I. 


'/ 


2  WOLFENBERG. 

with  silver-white  hair  beautifully  braided. 
There  was  her  daughter,  a  young  woman  of 
about  five-and-twenty,  of  a  pale  and  clear 
complexion,  with  dark  and  lustrous  eyes, 
highly-arched  black  eyebrows,  and  magnifi- 
cently-massed black  hair.  Then  there  was 
a  man  apparently  about  forty-five,  of  middle 
height  or  something  thereunder,  with  a  long 
brown  moustache,  a  clipped  brown  beard,  and 
a  firm  and  decided  mouth  that  seemed  some- 
how out  of  keeping  with  his  large,  grey, 
dreamy  eyes.  Indeed,  he  wore  something  of 
an  absent  look ;  it  was  his  two  companions 
who  were  most  alert  and  interested,  especially 
the  younger  lady,  who  was  talking  and 
laughing  with  a  gay  vivacity. 

"  Peggy,"  observed  a  certain  small  creature 
who  keeps  her  own  and  certain  other  house- 
holds in  meek  subjection — though  now  she 
spoke  with  bated  breath — "  those  two  are 
countrywomen  of  yours." 

"  I  think  you  forget  which  is  my  country," 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  3 

replied  Lady  Cameron  of  Inverfask,  a  little 
proudly.  "But  they  are  Americans,  if  that 
is  what  you  mean." 

The  next  moment — the  new  arrivals  were 
now  coming  along  the  gangway — a  startling- 
thing  occurred.  The  man's  face  appeared  to 
undergo  a  gradual  and  yet  swift  transforma- 
tion. Or  was  it  not  rather  that  this  definite 
and  actual,  this  living  and  breathing,  physi- 
ognomy summoned  up  all  sorts  of  ghosts — 
outlined  portraits  in  the  illustrated  papers — 
perhaps,  even,  some  likeness  in  oil  in  this 
or  that  exhibition  ?  One  had  certainly  seen 
those  features  before — in  books,  or  magazines, 
or  weekly  journals.  Then  a  hasty  and  furtive 
appeal  to  the  printed  list  of  passengers,  and 
the  mystery  was  solved  at  once :  this  was 
no  other  than  Wolfenberg,  the  great  American 
artist — the  most  imaginative  painter  that 
America  has  yet  produced — the  painter  of 
dreams  and  visions,  of  phantasms  and 
mysteries — the   painter    of    "  The    Return   of 


4  WOLFENBERG. 

Undine/'  of  "Two  Lovers  in  a  Valley. in  the 
Moon,"  of  "The  Goddess  Athene  Entering 
the  Chamber  of  Nausicaa."  Our  souls  rejoiced 
over  the  discovery ;  it  was  something  even 
to  be  sailing  in  the  same  vessel  with  this 
master  of  the  magic  wand,  this  compeller 
of  clouds  and  tempests,  this  traveller  who 
had  been  through  the  spirit-worlds,  whose 
eyes  had  beheld  strange  things. 

And  when  our  good  fortune  (or  the  Purser) 
so  arranged  affairs  that  we  found  ourselves 
seated  opposite  these  three  in  the  saloon  of 
the  great  steamer,  an  acquaintanceship  was 
struck  up  at  once  ;  that  is  easily  managed 
on  board  ship  ;  the  passing  of  a  salt-cellar 
will  suffice.  Of  course  it  was  the  young 
lady  who  at  the  outset  demanded  most 
attention,  and  seemed  to  expect  it,  and  got 
it.  For  one  thing,  there  was  no  unnecessary 
shyness  about  her  ;  she  was  eagerly  interested 
in  everything  around  her ;  she  chatted  freely, 
smiling  and  showing  pretty  teeth,  sometimes 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  5 

laughing  merrily  with  her  lustrous  black  eyes. 
Moreover,    she  was  pleasant   to  look  at.     If 
she  was  not  strictly  beautiful,   there  was   at 
least   something   curiously   seductive    in    her 
appearance — something   striking,  too,   in   the 
contrast  between  the  magnificent  black  hair 
and  the  pale  skin  and  red  lips.     Perhaps  that 
unusually   bright    crimson    owed   a    little    to 
artifice,  or  was  it  merely  accentuated  by  the 
prevailing  pallor  of  her  complexion  ?     At  all 
events,   her  pallor  was  not  the  pallor  of  an 
invalid.     There  was  not  much  of  the  invalid 
about  Amelie  Dumaresq,  as  we  subsequently 
discovered  her  name  to  be.     To  us,  who  were 
no  further  away  from  her  than  the  breadth 
of  the  table,  she  seemed  literally  to  thrill  to 
the  finger-tips  with  life,  and  with  the  delight 
of  life.     It  would  have  been  an  almost  aggres- 
sive vitality  had  it  not  been  modified  by  the 
young  lady's  evident  and  placid  expectation 
that   she    should   be  listened  to,  and  petted, 
and  made  much  of.     And  how  patiently  her 


6  WOLFENBERG. 

two  companions  bore  with  her  wilfulness, 
and  her  blunt,  frank  speeches,  and  her 
petulant  paradoxes.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
a  cloud  came  over  Wolfenberg's  thoughtful 
and  rather  tired-looking  face :  it  was  as  if 
he  would  have  said,  'Amelie,  have  a  little 
moderation,  before  strangers.'  But  ever  and 
always  he  skilfully  interposed,  apologising  for 
her,  defending  her,  explaining  that,  after  all, 
there  was  something  in  what  she  maintained. 
His  devotion  to  her,  his  gentle  government 
of  her,  his  pride  in  her  even  when  she  was 
most  audacious,  were  all  beautiful  to  witness. 
So  that  we  congratulated  ourselves  on  this 
our  setting  out.  There  was  one  table,  at 
least,  in  the  big  saloon  that  promised  to  be 
anything  but  dull. 

We  lost  sight  of  them  after  luncheon,  for 
each  and  all  of  us  went  our  several  ways  to 
arrange  cabins,  and  open  trunks,  and  make 
preparations  for  the  long  seven  weeks'  voyage. 
When  we  saw  them  again  on  deck,  the  day 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  7 

was  dying  out  in  crimson  flame,  with  Dover 
Castle  looming  large  and  high  and  dark 
against  the  west ;  while  along  the  south-eastern 
horizon  lay  one  massive  cloud,  vast,  portentous, 
suffused  with  a  sultry  light,  and  dwarfing  into 
insignificance  the  pale  golden- white  line  of 
the  French  coast  immediately  underneath  it. 
Then  by  and  by  the  tinkle  of  the  steward's 
bell  was  heard  all  over  the  ship ;  and  presently 
we  were  once  more  seated  opposite  our 
newly-found  acquaintances  —  down  here  in 
the  saloon,  that  was  now  all  bravely  aglow 
with  the  electric  lamps. 

She  took  away  the  breath  from  us  in  about 
the  very  first  second. 

"  I  have  got  one  detestable  duty  done  with 
this  afternoon,"  said  she,  addressing  herself 
mostly  to  the  two  ladies  opposite  her.  "  I 
thought,  as  we  were  going  to  Greece,  I  ought 
to  read  the  Iliad ;  and  I've  been  struggling 
with  it  for  days  ;  and,  thank  goodness,  I've 
finished  it  at  last !  " 


8  WOLFENBERG. 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  our  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  with 
kind  inquiry. 

"You  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  it?" 
said  this  young  person,  the  contour  of  whose 
satin-soft  cheek  and  the  liquid  splendour  of 
whose  dark  eyes  would  not  have  led  one  to 
anticipate  the  ruthless  iconoclasm  of  her  mind. 
"I  think  it  is  absolute  trash.  I  always  sus- 
pected that  Homer  was  rubbish,  and  now  I 
know  it.  And  I'll  tell  you  how  I  suspected 
it :  it  was  because  whenever  you  found  any 
one  writing  about  Homer  and  his  knowledge 
of  human  nature,  the  one  thing  that  was 
always  dragged  in  was  the  parting  of  Hector 
and  Andromache  ;  and  I  formed  a  kind  of 
notion  that  it  was  the  only  bit  of  human 
nature  in  the  whole  book — the  only  sample 
they  could  show.  The  Iliad  ? — it  seems  to  me 
nothing  but  the  doings  and  sayings  of  a  lot 
of  great,  brawling,  boasting  prizefighters.  The 
only  human  beings  in  it  are  the  immortals — 
and  they  are  a  parcel  of  big  babies." 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  9 

And  so  she  went  on ;  but  one  of  us  seemed 
to  hear  no  more — seemed  rather  to  be  recalling 
a  picture  that  appeared  in  the  Salon  some  ten 
or  a  dozen  years  ago.  The  title  of  it  was, 
1  Achilles  invoking  the  aid  of  Thetis ; '  the 
subject  was  the  grief- laden  hero  down  by  the 
seashore,  stretching  out  his  hands,  and  im- 
ploring his  goddess-mother  beneath  the  waves 
to  hear  him.  This  is  the  passage,  according 
to  a  recent  version  :  e  So  spake  he  weeping, 
and  his  lady  mother  heard  him  as  she  sate 
in  the  sea-depths  beside  her  aged  sire.  With 
speed  arose  she  from  the  grey  sea,  like  a  mist, 
and  sate  her  before  the  face  of  her  weeping 
son,  and  stroked  him  with  her  hand,  and 
spake  and  called  on  his  name/  Now  that 
picture  was  signed  '  Ernest  Wolfenberg  ; '  and 
all  the  artistic  circles  of  Europe  were  talking 
of  the  young  American  painter  who  had  so 
boldly  carried  modern  methods,  and  the  dreams 
of  his  own  high-strung  imagination,  into  the 
region  of  classic  myth.     And  did  this  girl — 


io  WOLFENBERG. 

whom  he  seemed  absolutely  to  worship — did 
she  alone  forget  ?  Or  did  she  consider  (which 
is  a  more  charitable  view)  that  his  position  as 
a  painter  was  so  assured,  and  his  choice  of 
subject  so  unerring  and  indisputable,  that 
anything  she  might  say  about  either  Art  or 
Literature  was  not  of  much  consequence,  so 
far  as  their  personal  relations  were  concerned  ? 
None  the  less  did  he  now  come  to  her  aid ; 
tried  to  show  that  there  was  something  to  be 
said  for  her  opinion ;  and  urged  the  unavoid- 
able poverty  of  translations.  It  was  pathetic 
in  its  way.  One  wondered  if  it  were  possible 
that  she  had  never  even  heard  of  '  Achilles 
invoking  the  aid  of  Thetis.' 

That  night  we  went  placidly  down  Channel, 
trying  at  times  to  identify  the  distant  streaks 
of  dull  yellow  fire  with  one  or  other  of  the 
Sussex  watering-places.  It  was  a  moonlight 
night,  calm  and  still ;  a  broad  band  of  silver 
quivered  on  the  smoothly-undulating  sea ;  the 
throbbing  of  the  engines  became  a  pleasant, 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS,  n 

monotonous,  drowsy  murmur  in  the  silence. 
At  intervals,  it  is  true,  we  had  music  on 
deck ;  but  some  of  us  may  have  preferred  the 
spaces  of  quiet ;  at  all  events,  Peggy — that  is 
to  say,  Lady  Cameron  of  Inverfask^and  her 
two  friends  had  sought  out  for  themselves  a 
secluded  corner  aft  of  the  wheel-box ;  and 
there  whosoever  chose  could  discourse  of  their 
shipmates  freely.  It  was  of  the  painter 
Wolfenberg  and  of  Amelie  Dumaresq  that 
one  had  now  to  hear. 

"Why,"  said  Peggy,  after  some  random 
observations,  "  she  cannot  be  more  than  four 
or  five-and-twenty ;  and  he  is  getting  quite 
grey  ! " 

"These,"  responded  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit, 
with  decision,  "are  the  matches  that  turn  out 
best — if  it  is  lasting  kindness  and  care  that 
the  girl  wants." 

"  She  does  not  seem  as  devoted  to  him  as 
he  is  devoted  to  her,"  Peggy  went  on,  in  the 
absent  way  that  is  induced  when  one  has  a 


12  WOLFENBERG. 

great  waste  of  moonlit  water  to  rest  one's  eyes 
on.  "But  of  course  she  could  not  show  it, 
especially  before  strangers.  She  calls  him 
Ernest,  however,  and  he  calls  her  Amelie,  so 
that  it  is  no  ordinary  friendship.  I  wonder, 
now,  if  she  will  marry  him  for  his  reputation, 
his  position  ?  Mind  you,  she  has  a  pretty  fair 
notion  of  her  own  importance ;  don't  you 
think  so  ?  She  has  her  own  individuality. 
I  doubt  whether  she  would  easily  take  a 
subordinate  place.  .  .  .  What  exquisite  hands 
she  has ! " 

"And  she  is  aware  of  it,"  answered  the 
other,  calmly. 

"And  a  very  pretty  smile — very  winning, 
I  think.  And  a  merry  laugh,  too.  Why,  she 
laughs  with  the  laugh  of  a  child  !  " 

"  And  yet  she  is  an  absolute  virago  in  her 
opinions  !  "  exclaimed  the  smaller  woman,  with 
a  touch  of  amazement.  "  She  is  a  regular 
down- with -e very thingist,  wherever  tradition, 
or  custom,  or  conventionality  is  concerned." 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  13 

"At  all  events,"  Peggy  put  in,  "she 
respects  convention  quite  sufficiently  in  her 
costume.  Both  she  and  her  mother  are 
perfectly  dressed." 

"  Peggy,  my  dear  child,  anarchical  women 
are  never  anarchical  in  their  dress — unless 
through  lack  of  means.  And  Miss  Dumaresq 
and  her  mother  have  just  come  over  from 
Paris.  Didn't  you  hear  ?  She  has  been 
studying  in  the  Atelier  Didron,  so  Mr. 
Wolfenberg  says." 

"  The  girl,  you  mean  ? " 

"  Yes ;  and  she  has  brought  a  lot  of  un- 
finished work  with  her.  Perhaps,  when  we 
become  better  friends,  she  may  let  us  have 
a  peep.  I  confess  I  am  curious — for  more 
than  one  reason." 

And  so  they  talked,  and  further  talked,  and 
speculated,  over  a  subject  that  seemed  to  have 
some  mysterious  attraction  for  them ;  until  it 
was  time  for  us  to  say  good-night  and  go 
away  to  our  respective  cabins,  with  one  final 


i4  WOLFENBERG. 

glance  round  at  the  magic  world  of  dark 
blue-grey  and  silver-shimmering  sea. 

Next  morning  we  had  a  look  in  at  Plymouth ; 
and,  just  before  starting  again,  Peggy  happened 
to  be  leaning  idly  with  her  arms  on  the  rail, 
gazing  across  the  green  waters  of  the  harbour 
towards  the  fair-shining  town  and  its  heights 
and  fortifications,  when  our  miniature  Admiral  - 
in-Chief  cameup,  her  air  and  manner  betokening 
serious  matters. 

"  Peggy,"  said  she,  "  in  a  few  minutes  we 
shall  be  off  for  Morocco." 

"  I  hope  we  shan't  be  bound  there,"  says 
the  young  lady,  under  her  breath,  to  her  other 
companion. 

"  You  are  bound  there,"  is  the  natural  reply. 

"What  are  you  two  whispering  about? 
But  I  wish  to  say  something  to  you,  and 
you  must  pay  attention,  you  American  girl," 
that  small  mite  goes  on,  undaunted.  "  I  wish 
to  say  this.  We  are  now  leaving  England  on 
a   long   voyage.     You  must  not   pretend   to 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  15 

forget  that  your  husband  distinctly  placed 
you  under  my  charge  when  he  went  to  India, 
and  gave  me  authority  over  you.  And  it  is 
my  duty  to  see  that  you  behave  yourself,  and 
show  yourself  worthy  of  the  name  you  bear 
and  of  the  country  you  have  adopted.  And, 
mind  you,  I  know  what  a  grass-widow  is.  I 
know  why  she  is  called  a  grass-widow  :  it  is 
because  she  is  a  creature  that  goes  about 
gobbling  up  all  green  things — especially  young 
men.  Now,  there  is  to  be  nothing  of  the  kind 
on  this  ship.  I  will  not  have  it.  I  am  re- 
sponsible for  you.  And  look  at  the  risk  I  run. 
Listen  to  this  notice."  She  opened  a  paper 
she  held  in  her  hand,  and  proceeded :  "  '  Any 
passenger  who  may  take  on  board  any  article 
of  explosive,  inflammable,  dangerous,  or 
damaging  nature,  is  liable  to  prosecution 
and  to  the  penalties  imposed  by  Statute, 
and  also  for  all  damages  resulting  from  the 
shipment  of  such  articles.'  Clearly  that  clause 
refers  to  you ;  and  yet  here  are  we  rendering 


16  WOLFENBERG. 

ourselves  liable  unless  you  will  pledge  yourself 
to  good  behaviour." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  say  something  for 
me  ?  "  murmurs  Peggy,  aside.  "  I  always 
stick  up  for  you  when  I  get  a  chance." 

To  which  this  is  the  answer  : — 

"  I  have  already  and  frequently  pointed  out 
to  you  that  there  are  only  two  absolutely 
perfect  human  beings  in  the  world.  Now, 
perfection  provokes  envy.  And  envy  is  the 
mother  of  suspicion  and  malice.  But  when 
these  two  beings,  mutually  rejoicing  in  the 
consciousness  of  their  exalted  innocence,  and 
strong  in  the  bonds  of  an  understanding  and 
a  sympathy  that  time,  and  fate,  and  traitorous 
tongues  seem  unable  to  destroy " 

"  And  particularly  in  this  case,"  says  Peggy, 
with  a  deeply-injured  air,  "when  my  sister 
Emily  is  going  to  join  us  at  Palermo  !  Oh, 
much  fun  I  shall  have  after  Emily  has  come 
on  board  !  You  have  never  seen  my  sister  ; 
you  don't  know.     I  tell  you  we  shall  all  have 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  17 

to  live  up  to  very  solemn  and  lofty  ideals 
when  she  comes  along.  You  needn't  be  afraid, 
Missis.  There  won't  be  any  skylarking,  either 
with  young  men  or  old.  Why,  I  used  to  be 
mortally  afraid  of  her  when  she  came  home 
from  school.  I  knew  I  was  a  frivolous  person  ; 
but  I  did  what  I  could  to  earn  her  approval 
— at  least,  by  concealing  things — a  little 
hypocrisy — oh,  Emily  believes  in  me " 

"Very  well,  then,"  says  Mrs.  Threepenny- 
bit,  apparently  only  half  convinced  by  these 
protestations.  "  We  shall  see.  I  will  keep 
an  eye  on  you,  my  super-innocent  young 
friend.  I've  seen  grass-widows  before,  and 
their  ways,  especially  on  moonlight  nights  in 
the  Mediterranean " 

But  here  the  Microscopic  Calumniator  had 
to  cease,  for  the  men  were  about  to  haul  up 
the  accommodation-ladder,  and  she  found  it 
necessary  to  move  further  aft. 

This  was  a  Sunday  ;  so  that  our  amusements 

and  occupations  were  of  a  subdued  and  sober 
vol.  1.  c 


18  WOLFENBERG. 

character.  It  was  not  until  the  following  day, 
when  we  were  well  into  the  Bay  of  Biscay, 
that  we  all  of  us  seemed  to  settle  down  into 
the  ordinary  swing  of  life  on  board  ship. 
And  it  must  be  said  that  the  dreaded  Bay 
treated  our  apprehensive  women-folk  in  the 
civillest  fashion.  All  day  long  there  were  only 
these  familiar  features :  a  cloudless  sky,  a 
horizon  of  milky  white,  a  circle  of  lapping, 
dark-blue  water,  with  a  blinding,  bewildering 
shiver  of  diamonds  towards  the  sun.  In  the 
afternoon,  amid  the  other  games  going  forward, 
cricket  was  proposed  ;  and  when  the  netting 
had  been  fixed  up  all  round,  and  sides  chosen, 
there  speedily  came  together  a  little  crowd  of 
fair  spectators,  who,  perched  high  on  one  of 
the  after  skylights,  and  forming  a  gallery,  as 
it  were,  could  award  applause  or  laughter  as 
the  case  demanded.  You  may  be  sure  that 
Peggy  was  in  that  group,  a  conspicuous  figure. 
And  one  marked  and  beautiful  thing  was  this  : 
under  the  widespread  awning  she  was  of  course 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  19 

in  shadow,  so  that  all  the  light  that  shone 
on  her  features  was  reflected  upward  from  the 
flashing  and  glancing  sea,  and  that  made  a 
sort  of  glory  of  her  face.  When  one  looked 
at  her — at  the  braided  golden-brown  hair,  the 
wholesome,  countrified  complexion,  the  shining 
eyes,  the  smiling  mouth,  the  bland  and  yet 
quick  interest  of  her  expression — what  did 
one  care  about  this  mad  game  except  to  see 
whether  she  laughed  or  clapped  her  hands  in 
approval  ?  These  poor  flannelled  wretches 
toiling  in  the  hot  afternoon  sun — with  their 
<  Played,  sir!'  <  Well  caught!'  <  How's  that?' 
— they  were  doing  their  best,  no  doubt ;  and 
the  scrimmage  had  its  varying  fortunes ;  but 
here,  overlooking  all,  was  this  radiant  creature, 
complaisant,  serene,  beatific,  the  Queen  of 
the  Tournament.  And  already  she  seemed 
to  have  made  friends  with  everybody  round 
about  her. 

After  dinner  that  night  an  impromptu  dance 
was   got  up,  when  the  deck-chairs  had  been 


20  WOLFENBERG. 

cleared  away.  It  was  sorneliow  a  strange 
kind  of  spectacle ;  and  yet  picturesque  in  its 
bizarre  fashion  :  the  dull  glow  of  the  lamps 
around  the  red-jacketed  bandsmen  —  the 
electric  globes  further  aft  revealing  the  awning 
overhead — the  swift-revolving  figures,  the 
young  women  in  light  silks  and  cashmeres, 
here  and  there  an  officer  in  uniform — and 
then  beyond  all  that  the  great  world  of  waves, 
blue-black,  smooth-heaving,  with  the  broad 
pathway  of  the  moon  trembling  in  vivid  silver. 
This  also  was  curious :  in  an  ordinary  ball- 
room, when  there  is  a  pause  in  the  music — a 
dotted  note,  for  example,  in  a  waltz — that 
momentary  space  of  quiet  is  filled  with  the 
rustle  of  silk  and  muslin  and  slippers  ;  but 
here,  in  these  slight  intervals,  one  caught 
another  sound — the  continuous  swish  of  the 
water  along  the  side  of  the  ship.  Wolfenberg 
was  standing  with  us,  looking  on  in  his  usual 
preoccupied,  contemplative  fashion. 

"  Isn't  it  very  monstrous  and  abominable, " 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  21 

said  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit  to  him,  "  that  those 
people  should  destroy  such  a  beautiful  night 
with  their  scamperings  ?  But,  after  all,  there 
were  wild  revels  in  l  a  wood  near  Athens/ 
And  it  is  rather  pretty,  don't  you  think  so  ? — 
the  different  lights — the  figures — the  sea  : 
what  do  you  say,  Mr.  Wolfenberg,  could,  an 
Impressionist  make  something  out  of  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  subject  in  it,"  he  answered 
her,  "  for  any  one  audacious  enough.  I  could 
not  manage  it.     But  Miss  Dumaresq  might." 

She  was  startled,  and  no  wonder,  to  hear 
this  master  of  his  art  talk  so  about  a  girl  who 
had  just  been  a  pupil  in  the  Atelier  Didron. 
But  he  proceeded — for  whenever  he  spoke  of 
Amelie  Dumaresq  he  seemed  to  rouse  himself 
from  his  reveries  :  "You  must  see  her  work. 
You  will  be  surprised,  I  think.  She  has  the 
courage  of  a  man,  and  the  strength  of  a  man. 
It  is  the  truth  she  aims  at,  the  truth  without 
compromise.  You  cannot  understand  her 
until  you  have  seen  her  work.     You  have  met 


22  WOLFENBERG. 

her  only  in  frivolous  moments — and  no  doubt 
she  likes  to  be  petted." 

At  this  moment  the  music  ceased,  and  the 
dance  came  to  an  end. 

"  Miss  Dumaresq  is  in  the  saloon  at  present, 
writing  letters,"  said  he,  with  a  sudden  in- 
spiration. "  Suppose  we  go  down  now,  and  I 
will  ask  her  to  bring  you  some  of  her  things  ?  " 

Well,  we  were  nothing  loth  ;  for  by  and  by 
the  music  would  be  resumed  ;  and  there 
seemed  something  a  little  too  incongruous 
between  the  silences  of  the  great  deep  all 
around  us  and  these  strains  of  cornet  and 
violin  and  violoncello.  Besides,  one  naturally 
wished  to  see  studies  that  had  won  commenda- 
tion from  so  high  an  authority.  So  the  four 
of  us  went  along  and  passed  down  the  com- 
panion-way :  Miss  Dumaresq  we  found  at  one 
of  the  tables,  while  her  mother  was  seated  at 
no  great  distance,  reading. 

"  Amelie,"  said  he,  very  gently,  "  may  I 
disturb  you  ? " 


FORTUITOUS   ATOMS.  23 

"I  am  delighted,"  said  she ;  and  at  once 
she  shut  her  writing-desk. 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favour  ?  "  he  asked — 
and  the  soft  black  eyes  answered  him  with  a 
glance  of  obvious  pleasure.  "  I  have  been 
talking  about  your  work,  and  I  want  to  justify 
myself.  I  want  you  to  go  and  bring  some 
of  your  drawings  to  show  to  our  friends 
here." 

But  at  this  she  drew  back,  in  affected  alarm. 

"  Oh  !  no,  no,  no  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  No, 
I  cannot,  Ernest — some  other  time,  perhaps — 
in  daylight." 

"  I  mean  only  the  black  and  white,"  he 
pleaded. 

"Oh  no,"  said  she.  "No — I  could  not — 
you  have  taken  me  by  surprise — I  am 
frightened." 

"  Come,  be  yourself,  Amelie  !  "  he  said,  with 
a  touch  of  reproach  in  his  tone,  for  clearly  her 
dismay  was  in  a  large  measure  simulated. 

But  she  would  not  yield.     She  obstinately 


24  WOLFENBERG. 

maintained  that  she  was  terrified  out  of  her 
wits  ;  she  wanted  time  to  prepare  herself  for 
such  an  ordeal ;  perhaps  next  day  she  would 
have  mustered  up  courage.  And  of  course 
Mrs.  Threepenny-bit — not  minding  whether 
this  excessive  shyness  were  genuine  or  not — 
took  the  girl's  part,  and  declared  that  she 
must  be  left  free  to  choose  her  own  time,  and 
apologized  for  the  suggestion  having  been 
made.  But  Amelie  Dumaresqs  eyes  were 
fixed  on  Wolfenberof. 

"Ah,  I  see  I  have  offended  you,  Ernest," 
she  said.  "  Oh  yes,  yes,  I  can  see — you 
need  not  protest.  What  can  I  do  ?  I 
know/' 

She  went  quickly  to  the  piano,  sat  down, 
and  let  her  fingers  run  through  a  little  prelude. 
She  turned  and  looked  at  him,  and  smiled. 
Then  she  began  to  sing — well,  it  could  hardly 
be  called  singing,  for  she  had  next  to  nothing 
of  a  voice ;  but  she  had  a  pretty  and 
coquettish  grace  of  expression.     The  air  was 


FORTUITOUS  ATOMS.  25 

unknown  to  us  ;  the  words,  as  we  afterwards 
learned,  were  a  translation  from  the  Spanish. 

*  Cupid,  drop,  oh  drop  that  dart  t 
Do  not  aim,  it  at  my  heart ; 
For  Tm  hut  a  little  maid, 

And  of  you  Tm  so  afraid  ! ' 

Yes,  it  was  pretty  and  fascinating  enough, 
if  it  was  no  great  vocal  triumph  ;  and  at  least 
we  could  hear  distinctly  what  she  had  to  say. 
So  she  went  on — 

*  I've  heard  how  your  pranks  of  yore 
Kept  Olympus  in  uproar  ; 

And  how  all  the  goddesses 
Yielded  to  your  sweet  decrees ; 
Since  celestials  thus  you  sway, 
Is  it  any  wonder,  pray, 
That  of  you  Tm  so  afraid, 
I,  a  little  mortal  maid  f 

Tm  too  young,  of  that  Tm  sure, 
And  too  simple,  to  endure 
Tour  enchantments  and  your  errors, 
Tour  deceptions  and  your  terrors, 
Tour  soft  languishing  desires, 
Tour  consuming  passion  fires. 
Out  of  reach  and  sight  of  man 
I  will  keep  me  (if  I  can  /) 
For  Tm  but  a  little  maid, 
And  of  love  Tm  so  afraid  I ' 


26  WOLFENBERG. 


She  came  away  from  the  piano  with  a  laugh. 
"Well,    Mr.    Gloomy-Brows,    am     I    for- 


given ? " 


"Amelie,"  said  he,  quite  goodnaturedly, 
"  how  long  are  you  going  to  remain  a  child  ? 
You  forget  that  you  are  a  great  artist." 


(        27        ) 


CHAPTER   II. 

TWO   DISCOVERIES. 

Again  has  the  mother  of  dawn,  rosy-fingered 
morning,  aroused  the  sleeping  world  ;  and  over 
there  are  the  phantom  hills  of  Spain — mere 
films  along  the  eastern  horizon.  Yet  of  all 
the  passengers  on  board  this  big  steamer  only 
two  have  so  far  appeared  on  deck  ;  and  these 
have  perched  themselves  high  on  the  wheel- 
box,  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  hose.  One 
of  these  is  a  tall  American  young  lady ;  and 
her  eyes,  which  at  all  times  are  eloquent  and 
expressive  enough,  are  at  this  moment  full  of 
an  eager  interest. 

"I  am  so  glad  of  the  chance,"  she  says, 
"for  I  have  a  tremendous  secret  to  tell  you. 
Oh,  you  would  never  guess — not  if  you  were 
to  work  at  it  for  a  month.     Do  you  know  who 


28  WOLFENBERG. 

is  on  board  this  ship  ?     Why,  the  great,  the 
immortal  '  Sappho  ! ' " 

"  Oh,  stuff  and  nonsense  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  she  is,"  Peggy  insists.  "  She 
herself  revealed  to  me  the  awful  mystery  last 
night.  After  you  left  I  went  back  to  the 
saloon,  to  get  a  book ;  and  she  came  up  and 
introduced  herself — she's  only  Miss  Penguin 
in  the  list  of  passengers,  you  know ;  but  we 
sat  down  and  had  a  nice  long  talk,  and  then 
she  told  me.  Believe  it  or  not  as  you  like, 
1  Sappho  '  is  on  board  this  steamer." 

It  was  a  startling  announcement — nay,  it 
was  almost  incredible.  Talk  of  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  ship  that  bore  Virgil  away  to 
Athens  !  Here  were  we  carrying  with  us  the 
perfervid  poetess,  the  JEolia  ypuella,  the 
modern  and  much-wailing  Sappho,  with  her 
distractions  and  agonies  and  cries.  But  in  the 
midst  of  one's  astonishment  Peggy  begins  to 
giggle. 

"  I  think  she  is  horribly  disappointed  that 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  29 

no  one  on  board  has  found  out  who  she  is. 
But  how  could  we  ?  I  never  saw  a  single 
photograph  of  her  in  any  shop.  And  she  says 
her  incognito  is  necessary  because  her  sym- 
pathies with  the  Armenians  are  well  known, 
and  she  is  afraid  the  Turkish  authorities  might 
make  trouble " 

"  But  which  is  she  ? — which  one  of  them 
is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  must  have  noticed  her — the  lady 
who  goes  about  leading  a  dog." 

"  What  ! — the  dowdily-dressed  woman  who 
spends  the  whole  of  the  day  nursing  that 
hideous  little  beast  ?  " 

"  Oh,  for  shame !  Why,  that  is  Phaon. 
And  isn't  it  too  cruel,  too  ignominious,  that 
Phaon  has  to  be  handed  over  every  night  to 
the  charge  of  the  butcher  ?  Nobody  but  that 
unfeeling,  hard-hearted  Purser  could  have  made 
such  a  stipulation." 

At  this  point  Peggy  suddenly  alters  her 
tone,  and  becomes  very  confidential. 


3o  WOLFENBERG. 

"  I  say,  do  you  think  I  might  show  you  a 
little  poem  ?  It  was  entrusted  to  me  last 
night,  in  great  secrecy  ;  but  I  rather  think  she 
would  like  it  to  be  discreetly  shown  about. 
You  see,  it  is  her  idea  of  the  kind  of  thing 
that  poetry  should  aim  at.  The  poets  of  the 
present  day,  she  says,  have  no  passion " 

"  What  does  an  elderly  spinster  know  about 
passion  ? " 

"  I'm  not  good  at  conundrums  ;  I  merely 
tell  you  what  she  says.  And  here  are  the 
verses — I'll  chance  it ;  read  them  and  give 
them  back  to  me  before  any  one  comes  up." 

There  was  no  difficulty  about  reading  them  ; 
the  handwriting  was  punctiliously  neat. 

He  plucked  the  last  long  golden  hair 

From  off  his  velvet  coat : 
1  Adieu,  my  Ever-fairest  Fair  ! ' 

My  lean  hands  seized  his  throat ! 

He  groaned  and  gurgled  to  the  ground, 

His  white  lips  moaned  c  Farewell!  ' 
High  Heaven  heard  the  awful  sound — 

A  shudder  ran  through  Hell  I 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  31 

The  whinnering  whirlwind  flared  and  fleered  ; 

The  oak  trees  coiled  and  curled  ; 
The  gasping  earth-fires  glimmered  weird  ; 

Blue  lightnings  shook  the  world. 

Sis  arms  were  round  me  in  a  mist ; 

A  simoom  ivas  his  breath : 
A  crimson  stain — ah,  God,  I  kissed 

The  Panther-Kiss  of  Death  ! 

"  Well  ?  "  says  Peggy. 

"  Why,  it  is  just  splendid  !  " 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  mean  anything,"  she 
retorts,  with  impatience.  "  Invent  a  good  lie 
for  me — do  !     I  must  say  something  to  her." 

"  Tell  her  that  it  is  simply  impossible  for 
you  to  express  your  admiration." 

"Hm — yes — that  might  answer,"  says 
Peggy,  doubtfully — but  at  this  juncture  our 
morning  conference  is  broken  in  upon,  for 
there  appears  on  the  scene  a  certain  Mrs. 
Spiteful,  whose  small  jibes  and  sarcasms  and 
enigmatic  references  to  Magna  Charta  Island 
it  is  unnecessary  to  set  down  here. 

A  shining  blue  day  followed — a  day  without 


32  WOLFENBERG. 

incident.  Next  morning  found  us  opposite 
the  cliffs  of  Cape  Koca,  with  the  ghostly  hills 
of  Cintra  rising  pale  and  cloud-like  beyond 
that  silver  blaze  of  sea.  And  again  a  perfect 
day;  indeed,  we  seemed  to  have  got  all  the 
winds  of  iEolus  tied  up  and  packed  securely 
away  in  the  Purser's  office.  But  all  this  time 
we  were  getting  to  know  more  and  more  about 
our  companions,  and  also  on  occasion  making 
one  or  two  new  acquaintances.  Amongst  the 
latter  was  a  delightful  old  gentleman, 
generally  spoken  of  as  'the  Major' — a  short, 
plump,  roseate,  cheerful,  smartly-dressed  per- 
son of  sixty-five  or  so,  who,  from  an  early 
part  of  the  voyage,  had  clearly  marked  out 
our  Peggy  for  his  own.  But  the  Major  had 
one  unfortunate  failing.  Ordinarily  the  very 
soul  of  good  nature,  he  nevertheless  was  easily 
put  out,  just  for  a  moment,  by  small  trifles  ; 
and  on  these  occasions,  and  no  matter  who 
his  companion  might  be,  he  was  in  the  habit 
of    using    very    strong    language,    which    he 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  33 

fondly  imagined  he  uttered  under  his  breath. 
Now,  the  Major  detested  Phaon,  and  for  some 
reason  or  another  detested  Phaon's  mistress 
as  well  ;  and  whenever  the  Passionate 
Spinster  approached  Peggy,  while  the  latter 
and  the  testy  old  warrior  were  talking 
together,  he  would  mutter  the  most  frightful 
anathemas,  and  forthwith  betake  himself  to 
some  other  part  of  the  ship.  Indeed,  Peggy 
was  forced  to  complain. 

"  You  really  must  speak  to  the  Major,"  said 
she.  "  I  never  heard  such  profanity.  Tell 
him  he  may  think  it,  but  he  mustn't  say  it. 
And  it's  all  about  nothing.  What  has  poor 
Phaon  ever  done  to  him  ?  Sometimes  Phaon 
gets  his  leading-string  round  your  ankles,  and 
trips  you  up  ;  but  it  isn't  intentional.  You 
must  tell  the  Major  he  is  mistaken  in 
supposing  that  people  cannot  overhear  him. 
Words  like  'nurse'  and  'jam'  are  perfectly 
innocent,  of  course  ;  but  I  object  to  the  words 
that  rhyme  to  them.      And   what   harm   has 

vol.  1.  D 


34  WOLFENBERG. 

Sappho  done  to  him  %  She  never  showed 
him  any  poetry.  Once,  indeed,  she  was 
repeating  to  us  some  verses  from  '  The  Isles 
of  Greece,'  and  when  she  came  to  '  Place  me 
on  Sunium's  marbled  steep,'  he  said,  quite 
aloud,  '  I  wish  to  heavens  I  could — and  leave 
you  there  ! '  So  that  if  anybody  has  the  right 
to  be  offended  it  is  she — if  she  heard  him — 
and  not  he." 

But  we  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  remon- 
strate with  the  Major.  Human  beings  have 
their  ways ;  and  we  were  well  content  to  take 
him  as  he  was. 

It  was  on  this  afternoon  that  Ernest 
"Wolfenberg  came  to  us  and  said  if  we  would 
walk  along  to  the  fore  saloon  we  should  have 
an  opportunity  of  looking  at  some  of  Miss 
Dumaresq's  work.  It  was  an  ordeal  that  at 
least  one  of  us  would  rather  not  have  faced. 
For  this  was  not  a  question  of  a  vain  and 
half-cracked  creature  submitting  her  spas- 
modic verses  for  private  scrutiny.     Here  was 


TWO  DISCOVERIES.  35 

a  man,  himself  a  great  artist,  who  believed 
in  the  woman  who  was  his  constant  companion 
and  friend  ;  he  seemed  to  think  far  more  of 
her  fame  and  future  position  than  of  anything 
pertaining  to  himself;  and  there  had  even 
been  some  serious  discussion  about  the  best 
method  of  placing  a  number  of  her  water- 
colour  drawings  before  the  British  public, 
Well,  as  it  turned  out,  there  was  no  call  for 
any  alarm.  The  very  first  glimpse  we  had 
of  the  contents  of  the  great  portfolio  showed 
that  here  was  virile  stuff.  Blunt  it  might  be, 
and  uncompromising,  even  brutal,  in  its  direct- 
ness ;  but  about  its  strength,  its  vividness,  its 
originality  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever. 
And  Amelie  Dumaresq  was  no  longer  the 
petted  child ;  she  had  thrown  aside  that 
affectation ;  she  stood  before  these  things 
silent,  not  breathlessly  concerned  about  any 
judgment,  nor  professing  to  be  so.  And 
we,  ignorant  as  we  were,  surely  we  knew 
that  work  of  this  kind,  however  incomplete 


36  WOLFENBERG. 

and  immature  it  might  be  in  certain  ways, 
had  not  been  produced  without  pain  and 
struggle  and  searching  of  heart  ?  There  was 
no  fear  of  any  critic  or  any  school  of  critics 
visible  here.  She  had  seen  certain  things 
with  the  vision  of  an  artist ;  she  had  aimed 
at  them  by  such  methods  as  were  known  to 
her ;  and  even  where  a  false  note  seemed  to 
have  been  struck,  that  doubtless  was  also 
intentional.  For  example,  there  was  one 
drawing  that  represented  a  number  of  fashion- 
able people  promenading  on  a  lawn — some 
sea-side  Sunday-morning  ceremony  most  likely : 
the  women  in  summer  costumes,  white,  pink, 
mauve,  jet-black — sunshades  cream-coloured, 
crimson,  pure  scarlet — everything  clear,  literal, 
and  distinct ;  but  not  only  that ;  where  she 
had  come  to  a  gown  of  false  green  against  the 
true  green  of  the  grass,  there  it  was  likewise. 
French,  no  doubt,  all  this  was ;  but  it  had 
precision  and  individuality ;  and  it  was  an 
individuality  without  impertinence. 


TWO  DISCOVERIES.  37 

"No,  it  was  not  she,  it  was  he,  who  seemed 
a  trifle  nervous  and  anxious  ;  and  when  she 
had  gone  away  with  the  big  portfolio,  and 
when  he  returned  with  us  to  the  after-part 
of  the  deck,  his  eager  talk  was  still  about  her 
and  her  pictures,  defending,  explaining,  be- 
lauding, and  all  the  while  assuming,  or 
appearing  to  assume  (this  was  the  most 
curious  part  of  it)  that  he,  the  master,  the 
assured  and  accomplished  artist,  and  she,  the 
audacious  amateur,  were  on  one  and  the  same 
plane. 

"  What,  now,  do  you  think  your  Academi- 
cians would  say  ?  "  he  went  on.  "  Are  there 
very  bigoted  cliques  among  them  ?  Would 
they  denounce  her  for  realism  ?  And  yet  it 
seems  to  me  that  whoever  sees  nothing  but 
realism  in  Miss  Dumaresq's  work  sees  nothing. 
There  is  Art — Art  speaking  in  one  of  its  many 
tongues,  and  perhaps  not  easily  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  multitude.  You  are  not  likely 
to  find  one  gifted  with  her  perceptions  aiming 


38  WOLFENBERG. 

at  mere  fidelity,  or  carried  away  by  any  bald 
theory  about  truth.  She  understands  as  well 
as  any  one  that  Art  is  conventional,  and  must 
be  conventional.  'Art  is  Art  because  it  is 
not  Nature.'  Whoever  talked  as  Shakespeare's 
characters  talk  ?  What  girl  ever  spoke  of 
cutting  her  lover  into  little  stars  so  as  to  make 
the  heavens  shine  ?  These  men  and  women 
in  Shakespeare's  plays  speak  as  no  men  or 
women  ever  spoke  ;  and  yet  they  are  more 
human  than  any  men  or  women  whom  we 
know  or  are  ever  likely  to  know.  It  is  simply 
Art  talking  in  one  of  its  conventional  lan- 
guages ;  you  value  it  because  of  what  it  brings. 
Look  at  our  dialect  stories,  as  they  are  called," 
he  continued,  leaning  back  in  his  deck-chair 
with  his  hands  behind  his  head.  "  No  doubt 
certain  peculiarities  of  diction  are  faithfully 
reproduced.  But  what  is  the  value  of  that  ? 
If  the  human  nature  it  reveals  is  poor  and 
mean  and  contemptible,  what  is  gained  by 
this  affectation  of  truth  ?      For  'it  is  not  the 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  39 

truth.  If  you  were  to  report  a  man's  con- 
versation as  he  speaks  it,  you  would  have  a 
story  a  life-time  long.  It  is  the  business  of 
Art  to  select  and  condense,  to  pick  out  the 
salient  points  of  character,  and  speech,  and 
circumstance  ;  and  I  don't  care  how  con- 
ventional the  language  may  be  so  long  as  the 
human  beings  live  and  interest  me.  Accuracy 
is  the  aim  of  pedants  and  fools.  When  I  see 
Rosalind  come  down  the  stage,  resplendent 
in  her  white  satin  and  lace  veil,  I  don't  stop 
to  ask  where  she  got  her  weddiug-dress  in  the 
middle  of  the  Forest  of  Arden.  And  so  I 
hope  you  have  not  formed  any  prejudice 
against  Miss  Dumaresq's  work  because  at  first 
sight  it  appears  a  literal  transcript.  I  think 
the  more  you  study  it  you  will  perceive  that 
it  is  more  than  that — that  it  is  true  Art — Art 
making  use  of  a  series  of  symbols — aiming  at 
just    and     necessary    compromise — and    also 

expressing  the  individuality  of  the  artist " 

Well,  it  was  not  for  us  to  protest  or  assent ; 


40  WOLFENBERG. 

it  was  for  him  to  lay  down  the  law,  and 
welcome.  But  there  was  something  almost 
pathetic  in  the  whole  situation.  It  was  as 
clear  as  daylight  that  he  had  thought  out  all 
these  things  to  form  a  defence  of  Amelie 
Dumaresq,  in  case  any  one  should  object  to 
the  "realism''  of  her  work.  We  had  made 
no  such  objection  ;  nay,  in  the  case  of  out- 
siders like  ourselves,  what  was  demanded  of 
us,  and  freely  accorded,  was  appreciation, 
not  criticism  ;  but  all  the  same  he  appeared 
anxious  to  guard  against  what  might  be  the 
conclusions  of  unspoken  prejudice.  It  was 
a  strange  kind  of  undertaking  for  one  in  his 
position.  For  we  could  not  but  remember 
what  his  own  work  was.  And  although 
scarlet  sunshades  against  a  green  lawn  might 
command  one's  admiration  for  the  moment, 
there  was  something  other  and  finer  than  that 
dwelling  in  our  memory — there  wTas  the 
mystic  figure  of  the  goddess,  clad  in  vaporous 
veils  of  rain,  dim,  awful,  and  yet  benignant 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  41 

as  a  pitying  mother  come  up  from  the  green 
deeps  to  comfort  her  son  weeping  apart  from 
his  comrades  by  the  shores  of  the  grey  sea. 
And  we  wondered  whether  Amelie  Dumaresq 
quite  knew  what  manner  of  man  this  was  who 
thus  stooped  from  his  high  estate  to  plead  for 
her  and  defend  her,  even  to  the  belittling  of 
his  own  achievements. 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  talk,  which  was 
sufficiently  interesting  to  us  for  several  reasons, 
there  was  a  sudden  and  fierce  ringing  of  the 
bell — the  fire-alarm  !  In  an  instant  the  whole 
ship  was  in  commotion.  Fore  and  aft  there 
was  swift  but  ordered  movement ;  certain 
hands  sprang  to  the  davits  to  stand  by  the 
boats  —  others  came  hurrying  along  with 
bundles  of  blankets  —  others  ran  to  the 
hydrants.  In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time 
every  man  was  at  his  post ;  then  there  was  a 
pause  of  inspection ;  and  then,  this  rapid  and 
unforeseen  piece  of  drill  being  over,  the  men 
gradually  returned   to   their    ordinary  duties. 


42  WOLFENBERG. 

It  was  altogether  admirably  done ;  and  we 
saw  no  reason  to  doubt  that  in  actual  case  of 
fire  this  complicated  manoeuvre  would  be  gone 
through  with  equal  promptitude  and  accuracy. 
That  evening  found  us  off  Cape  St.  Vincent. 
There  was  a  certain  solemnity  of  appearance 
about  those  high  and  solitary  cliffs  that  were 
sombrely  lit  up  by  the  after-glow  streaming 
over  from  the  west ;  and  then  from  time  to 
time  the  tall  lighthouse  would  send  forth  its 
silent  signal — a  shaft  of  golden  flame  coming 
out  of  the  mystic  grey  of  the  eastern  sky. 
But  at  dinner  there  was  not  much  solemnity. 
For  Amelie  Dumaresq  had  ceased  to  be  the 
artist  who  stood  serene,  and  simple,  and  self- 
possessed  while  we  looked  at  the  contents  of 
the  big  portfolio  ;  she  was  again  the  spoiled 
and  petted  child ;  she  was  teasing  this  one 
and  laughing  towards  that ;  an  atmosphere 
of  enjoyment,  of  merriment,  of  delight  in  the 
mere  fact  of  living,  seemed  to  surround  her ; 
while   one   could   hardly   avoid    the   suspicion 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  43 

that  she  was  well  aware  of  the  notice  she  was 
attracting — of  the  covert  glances  that  admired, 
or  envied  her,  the  soft  clear  pallor  of  her  com- 
plexion, her  long-lashed  dark  eyes,  her  cherry- 
red  mouth,  her  heavily-massed  black  hair, 
with  its  solitary  diamond  star.  Poor  Wolfen- 
berg  was  entirely  neglected.  It  was  the 
women  she  was  determined  to  fascinate.  And 
so,  while  she  bedazzled  them  with  her  laughing 
black  eyes,  or  charmed  them  with  her  pretty 
and  wilful  ways,  or  shocked  them  with  her 
iconoclastic  paradoxes,  he  was  fain  to  turn 
to  the  only  other  serious  person  at  table,  and 
to  beg  for  some  information  about  the  accord 
granted  to  strangers  by  the  Royal  Academy. 
For  even  while  she  ignored  him,  he  remained 
solicitous  about  her  interests.  It  was  with 
regard  to  the  water-colour  room  at  Burlington 
House  he  now  wanted  to  know. 

But,  as  it  chanced,  we  were  on  this  evening 
to  learn  something  more,  and  something  sur- 
prising enough,  concerning  these  two.     For  a 


44  WOLFENBERG. 

considerable  time  we  had  lost  sight  of  Lady 
Cameron,  and  vaguely  supposed  she  was 
writing  letters  in  the  saloon,  hoping  to  post 
them  at  Tangier.  But  when  she  did  rejoin 
us,  she  had  a  very  different  tale  to  tell.  She 
crept  down  into  our  snug  little  corner  aft  of 
the  wheel-box.  and  began  to  speak  in  a  hushed 
and  rather  eager  voice ;  and  it  soon  became 
apparent  that  this  was  no  mere  discovery  of 
a  sham  Sappho  that  she  had  now  to  com- 
municate. 

"  I  have  had  a  long  talk  with  Miss 
Dumaresq,"  she  said,  "  and  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  she  startled  me.  It  is  the  saddest  story 
— one  part  of  it ;  and  then  the  other  part  of  it 
very  beautiful,  I  think.  And  I  was  quite 
surprised  by  her  manner  while  she  was  telling 
it.  There  wasn't  a  trace  of  those  airs  and 
graces  ;  she  spoke  with  great  feeling  ;  I  could 
hardly  have  imagined  her  showing  such 
sympathy " 

"Yes,   but  what   is  it  all  about,  Peggy  ?" 


TWO  DISCOVERIES.  45 

put  in  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  to  check  this 
incoherent  utterance. 

"  You  will  be  quite  as  much  astonished  as  I 
was,"  was  the  rejoinder,  in  those  low  and 
hurried  tones.  "And  yet  there  is  no  secret 
about  it.  It  is  simply  that  Mr.  Wolfenberg  is 
already  married " 

"  Married  !  "  said  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  in 
dismay  ;  but  it  was  only  her  own  imaginings 
that  had  been  at  fault. 

"  Oh,  and  to  a  dreadful  woman ! "  Peggy 
went  on.  "  It  is  the  most  terrible  story,  that 
side  of  it.  A  man  of  his  refined  and  imagi- 
native temperament  tied  to  a  horrid  creature, 
a  coarse,  vulgar,  shameless " 

"  Peggy,"  interposed  her  friend,  with  a  little 
coldness,  "  when  a  young  lady  takes  a  marked 
and  exceptional  interest  in  a  married  man,  I 
wouldn't  altogether  trust  what  that  young- 
lady  might  say  about  the  married  man's  wife." 

"  But  listen  to  this — listen  to  facts,"  Peggy 
persisted.      "  Fancy   a    woman    who    doesn't 


46  WOLFENBERG. 

drink,  but  who  used  to  pretend  to  drink  in 
order  to  shame  him  before  his  friends  !  Fancy 
a  woman  who,  knowing  he  has  a  particularly 
sensitive  ear,  used  to  take  pathetic  airs  and 
bang  them  out  on  the  piano  as  waltzes  and 
polkas,  simply  to  drive  him  from  his  work ! 
Fancy  a  woman  whose  extravagance  is  not  due 
to  any  liking  for  luxury,  but  merely  because 
she  knows  it  is  his  money  she  is  throwing 
away  right  and  left !  That  is  a  nice  kind  of 
creature  for  a  man  like  Wolfenberg  to  be  tied 
to!" 

"Well,  if  it  be  so,  it  is  all  very  sad  and 
wretched,"  said  the  smaller  woman,  absently. 
"  But  it  is  a  good  thing  for  him  he  has  a 
dream-world  to  take  refuge  in." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Peggy.  "  That  is 
only  half  the  story.  Now  I  come  to  the  part 
of  it  that  seems  to  me  beautiful.  Only  I  wish 
I  could  tell  it  to  you  as  Miss  Dumaresq  told  it 
to  me.  She  spoke  in  quite  a  proud  way ;  and 
then  again  the  startling  things  she  says  don't 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  47 

sound  so  startling  as  coming  from  her,  for 
you  get  used  to  her  habit  of  knocking  over 
accepted  beliefs  and  traditions  as  if  they  were 
ninepins.  What  she  practically  said  was  this  : 
'  The  wrong  that  one  woman  has  done  him 
another  woman  must  atone  for  ;  and  I  mean 
to  try.  He  shall  not  be  left  quite  alone.  I 
cannot  marry  him,  it  is  true  ;  but  if  he  were 
free  to-morrow  morning,  I  would  not  marry 
him.  For  one  thing,  marriage  is  the  great 
disillusion iser.  If  a  man  and  a  woman  have 
a  perfect  regard  and  esteem  and  affection  for 
each  other,  and  if  they  wish  to  preserve  these, 
then  let  them  remain  friends,  firm  and  fast 
friends,  and  nothing  more.  An  exalted  and 
devoted  friendship  between  two  people  of 
kindred  tastes  and  sympathies,  who 
thoroughly  understand  each  other,  who 
have  absolute  confidence  in  each  other,  and 
who  have  a  constant  delight  in  each  other's 
society,  is  a  far  more  durable  and  desirable 
thing    than    marriage    with     its    hot-headed 


48  WOLFENBERG. 

jealousies  and  wrangles  and,  after  a  little 
while,  its  waning  fires,  followed  by  cold 
indifference.'  Oh,  I  tell  you,"  Peggy  went 
on,  "  there  is  no  beating  about  the  bush  with 
Amelie  Dumaresq.  She  says  the  conjugal 
bond  is  the  destroyer  of  all  true  comradeship 
between  a  man  and  a  woman.  For  her  own 
part,  and  quite  outside  these  present  circum- 
stances, she  says  she  wants  to  remain 
independent,  and  to  have  her  companionship 
sought  for  as  a  favour  and  yielded  voluntarily, 
not  demanded  as  a  right.  She  wants  to 
follow  out  her  own  career,  and  has  no  mind 
to  sink  into  the  position  of  a  housekeeper  for 
any  one  else — looking  after  the  dinner  and 
the  nursery.  She  says  that  if  you  wish  the 
desire  to  meet  each  other,  the  delight  in  each 
other's  society,  as  between  a  man  and  a 
woman,  to  be  prolonged  indefinitely,  then  do 
not  barter  away  freedom  and  bring  in  the 
marriage  pledge.  Well,  that  is  merely  as 
regards  her  own  position.     But,  really,  when 


TWO   DISCOVERIES.  49 

she  began  to  describe  Wolfenberg's  broken 
life,  his  banishment  from  his  own  country, 
his  loneliness,  the  very  piteousness  of  the 
gratitude  he  shows  her  for  her  romantic 
association  with  him,  she  gave  evidence  of 
a  sympathy  I  should  not  have  expected  of 
her.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  thought  she  was 
nothing  but  a  pert,  conceited,  little  chatterbox, 
fond  of  saying  alarming  things  simply  to 
attract  attention.  But  she  is  more  than  that, 
Missis.  I  wish  you  heard  her  talk  of  Wolf  en - 
berg — of  his  simplicity  of  character,  his 
unselfishness,  his  sensitive  honour,  his  noble 
humility,  his  freedom  from  anything  in  the 
shape  of  envy,  his  generous  recognition  of 
work  far  inferior  to  his  own,  and  I  don't 
know  what  besides.  Yes,  I  think  there  is 
something  fine  in  her  determination  to  stand 
by  this  man,  who  otherwise  seems  so  solitary. 
I  did  not  think  the  little  Georgian,  or 
Virginian,  or  whatever  she  is,  was  capable  of 
rising  to  such  a  situation." 

VOL.  I.  E 


50  WOLFENBERG. 

It  was  getting  late  ;  the  two  women  had 
to  go.  But  already  it  had  become  abundantly 
clear  that  they  regarded  this  discovery  from 
very  different  points  of  view. 

"  It  seems  to  me  quite  a  beautiful  relation- 
ship," said  Peggy,  with  a  touch  of  enthusiasm, 
as  they  were  bidding  each  other  good-night. 

But  the  elder  woman  shook  her  head, 
rather  sadly. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  she  said.  "Well, 
I  hope  it  may  prove  to  be  so.  But  I  am 
afraid.  And  wouldn't  it  be  a  terrible  thing, 
Peggy,  if  the  second  part  of  your  story  were 
to  turn  out  even  more  tragic  than  the  first  ? " 


(     Si     ) 


CHAPTER    III. 

A   DEVIATION. 

Axd  again  comes  another  resplendent  morning ; 
but  now  we  find  that  a  brisk  breeze  has  sprung 
up  ;  the  rolling  and  heaving  blue -black  waves 
are  flashing  silver  crests  to  the  sun ;  and  far 
away  beyond  the  restless  plain  rise  the  pale 
hills  of  Africa,  terminating  in  the  lofty  and 
precipitous  Cape  Spartel.  The  two  early 
risers  are  on  deck,  and  alone. 

"Listen  to  me,"  says  Peggy,  perching 
herself  high  and  comfortably  on  the  wheel - 
box — so  high  indeed  that  the  light  reflected 
upward  from  the  sea  removes  the  ordinary 
shadows  from  her  face,  and  you  would  think 
there  was  a  supernatural  radiance  shining 
there.      "  Do    you   know   what  the   man   said 


LIBRARt  

UNIVERSITY  OF  MJN09 


52  WOLFENBERG. 

after  he  had  read  aloud  the  Ten  Command- 
ments ? " 

"  There  never  was  any  such  man  !  "  one 
answers  her,  impatiently;  for  Peggy's  ways 
are  known. 

"  He  said  :  l  And  now  to  turn  to  something 
really  serious.'  And  so  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
honestly — as  honestly  as  you  can — whether 
it  is  true  we  are  not  going  in  to  Tangier 
after  all?" 

"Well,  the  officers  seem  to  say  this  is  a 
bad  wind  for  landing  ;  there  will  be  a  heavy 
surf." 

"  Where  are  we  going,  then  ? " 

"  Who  knows  ?  We  may  turn  in  to  Gib. 
Or  make  for  Algiers ;  or  Tunis.  We  have 
no  cargo  to  deliver  or  take  up,  so  we  have 
all  the  world  to  choose  from." 

"  And  you  consider  that  amusing  ?  I  do 
not  in  the  least.  For  look  here."  She  pro- 
duces the  table  of  conditions  under  which  we 
took  our  berths.    "  Did  you  notice  this  clause  ? 


A    DEVIATION.  53 

— '  The  ship  may  deviate  for  any  purpose 
and  to  any  extent.'  What  do  you  think  of 
that  ?  What  does  that  mean  ?  Perhaps  you 
rather  like  a  deviating  ship.  I  don't,  I  can 
tell  you.  Suppose  it  should  deviate  us  against 
an  unknown  island  ? " 

"  It  would  please  me  to  see  you  and  the 
Major  shipwrecked  on  a  desert  coast.  You 
would  make  a  romantic  couple.  At  present 
it  must  be  painful  for  you  to  know  that  there 
are  about  fifteen  cameras  on  board,  and  that 
at  any  moment  one  of  them  may  be  snapping 
you  from  behind  your  back.  Why,  the  uni- 
versal amateur  photographer  must  have  as 
wholesome  a  constraint  over  you  as  your 
sister  Emily." 

"  At  all  events,"  she  retorts,  "  it  is  a  good 
thing  there  is  one  person  on  board  who  treats 
me  with  respect.  He  wouldn't  say  spiteful 
things.  He  wouldn't  be  rude  to  a  poor  lone 
widow.  He  is  always  gallant,  and  courteous, 
and  anxious  to  please.     He  fetches  my  chair 


54  WOLFENBERG. 

for  me  ;  and  sees  that  the  cushion  is  right ; 
and  gives  me  a  castle  when  I  play  chess  with 
him — he  would  give  me  a  queen  if  I'd  take  it, 
and  be  delighted  to  be  beaten  every  time. 
And  just  wait  until  we  get  into  port :  you'll 
see  who  will  have  the  prettiest  bouquets  of  all 
the  women  on  this  ship — and  I  know  who  will 
bring  them  to  her."  Then  of  a  sudden  she 
changes  her  tone.  "I  say — about  Emily.  I 
suppose  there's  no  doubt  about  our  deviating 
towards  Palermo  ?  A  fine  thing  it  would  be 
if  the  Baby  were  left  stranded  all  by  herself  in 
a  hotel  ! " 

"Oh,  we  shall  get  to  Palermo  all  right. 
But  why  do  you  still  call  her  the  Baby  ?  She 
must  be  nearly  eighteen  by  now." 

"She  is  eighteen  ;  and  she  is  as  tall  as  I 
am  ;  and  weighs  five  pounds  more." 

"  A  very  promising  Baby,  indeed  ! " 

And  so  as  the  morning  went  by  we  bored 
our  way  into  the  Straits,  against  a  hot  east 
wind  and  a  heavily -running  sea  ;  and  passed 


A   DEVIATION.  55 

the  yellow  and  grey  scarred  rock  of  Gib.,  with 
Ceuta  over  there  in  the  south  ;  and  ploughed 
onwards  and  onwards  into  the  ever- widening 
Mediterranean.  Algiers,  it  was  now  known, 
was  our  destination,  and  there  was  no  murmur  ; 
some  of  us,  indeed,  would  have  been  content 
to  leave  land  untouched  for  the  next  three 
months  if  only  the  provisions  were  likely  to 
last.  For  the  more  we  got  to  know  of  these 
excellent  Orotanians,  the  more  we  esteemed 
them  and  their  prevailing  good  humour  and 
kindness  and  courtesy ;  and  there  were  plenty 
of  amusements  and  occupations  to  pass  those 
long  sunlit  hours  withal,  even  if  we  had  not 
had  enough  of  other  interests  both  within  and 
without  our  own  small  circle.  For  personal 
relationships  develop  rapidly  at  sea  ;  and  in 
these  combinations  it  seemed  to  us  as  though 
every  side  of  human  nature  was  being  dis- 
played to  us. 

That  evening  Wolfenberg   brought  Amelie 
Dumaresq   along   to    our   accustomed  retreat, 


56  WOLFENBERG. 

with  some  little  apology  for  the  very  welcome 
intrusion.  It  was  a  beautiful  night :  the  sea 
had  gone  down  considerably ;  there  was  a 
cloudless  sky ;  a  few  pale  stars  were  visible, 
with  one  golden  planet  shining  full  and  clear 
in  the  deep  violet  vault. 

"  I  want  Miss  Dumaresq  to  hear  for  herself/' 
said  he,  as  we  made  room  for  them,  "what 
you  think  about  her  first  coming  before  the 
British  public — the  best  way,  I  mean.  You 
say  the  water-colour  room  at  the  Academy  is 
not  much  frequented  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  exceedingly  popu- 
lar— as  a  rendezvous  for  people  going  to 
lunch." 

"  You  would  prefer  a  room  in  Bond  Street — 
a  little  exhibition  all  to  herself  ? "  he  continued. 
"  I  was  only  a  short  time  in  London,  and  got 
to  know  very  few  people — I  was  too  busy  with 
the  picture-galleries;  but  if  this  project  came 
off,  I  could  have  plenty  of  introductions  from 
the  other  side,  and  we  might  secure  two  or 


A    DEVIATION,  57 

three  influential  people  who  would  get  the 
little  collection  talked  of.  The  Academicians 
wouldn't  frown,  would  they,  at  this  apparent 
independence  ? " 

"  Of  course  not.  They  would  be  more 
likely  to  come  to  the  Private  View,  if  you 
asked  them." 

"Not  that  I  would  have  her  neglect  the 
Academy — not  at  all,"  said  he,  with  some 
solicitude.  "  The  fact  is,  although  she  has 
been  working  in  oils,  she  is  not  quite  so 
familiar  with  that  medium  yet ;  but  later  on 
I  would  have  her  send  in  a  picture  in  oils  to 
the  Academy." 

"  Lady  Cameron,"  said  Miss  Dumaresq,  with 
a  rueful  little  smile,  "how  would  you  like 
to  be  in  my  position  ?  How  would  you  like  to 
know  yourself  a  very  small  person,  and  find 
an  artist  like  Mr.  AVolfenberg  bothering  about 
you,  and  treating  you  as  if  you  were  of  im- 
portance %  Talk  of  my  appealing  to  the  British 
public !  "  she  went  on  in  another  strain.     "  I 


58  WOLFENBERG. 

know  who  ought  to  appeal,  and  who  would 
appeal  with  some  effect,  and  that  is  Mr. 
Wolfenberg  himself.  I  think  it  is  a  shame  he 
should  be  known  in  England  only  by  his 
reputation.  But  buyers  are  so  selfish.  If  they 
weren't  so  selfish  I  tell  you  what  I  should  like. 
I  should  like  a  loan  exhibition  in  our  own 
country  of  all  Mr.  Wolfenberg  s  paintings — a 
complete  collection.  For  people  are  so  apt  to 
forget  what  a  range  of  subjects  a  painter  may 
have   covered,    and   they  judge  him   by   the 

picture  of  the  moment " 

"  There  I  don't  agree  with  you,  Anielie," 
he  said,  with  gentleness.  "  The  critics  may. 
But  the  public  are  more  generous.  The  public 
judge  of  a  man  by  his  best  work,  and  give 
him  his  reputation  from  his  best  work.  When 
an  artist  has  painted  a  great  picture,  the 
public  give  him  his  position ;  they  put  him 
on  a  pedestal ;  and  they  don't  call  on  him 
to  come  down  if  his  subsequent  work,  however 
sincere,  should  be  unequal.     The  world  does 


A    DEVIATION.  59 

not  bother  about  striking  averages  ;  that  is 
left  to  the  critic.  The  world  marks  the 
highest  rung  of  the  ladder  a  man  has  reached, 
and  writes  his  name  on  the  wall  there,  to 
remain." 

"  Well,  Ernest,  you,  at  least,  have  no  right 
to  complain  of  the  critics  ;  they  have  always 
been  most  kind  to  you,"  Miss  Dumaresq 
interposed,  pleasantly. 

"  The  critic,"  he  said,  in  an  absent  kind  of 
way,  "so  seldom  remembers  that  it  may  be 
himself — his  own  capacity  or  incapacity — he 
is  revealing  to  the  public.  When  Carlyle 
wrote  his  article  on  Scott,  he  was  not  giving 
us  the  measure  of  Walter  Scott,  he  was  giving 
us  the  measure  of  Thomas  Carlyle." 

But  there  was  no  indifferentism,  either  of 
manner  or  speech,  about  him  when — Mrs. 
Dumaresq  having  come  to  call  her  daughter 
away  for  some  purpose  or  another — he  was 
left  free  to  speak  on  a  subject  that  more  nearly 
concerned  him. 


60  WOLFENBERG. 

"I  confess,"  he  said,  ';I  am  looking  forward 
with  a  little  disquiet  to  this  visit  of  Miss 
Dumaresq's  to  the  East.  It  was  I  who  urged 
her  mother  and  herself  to  go.  I  thought  it 
would  be  a  kind  of  education  for  Amelie ; 
and  with  the  future  she  has  before  her,  all 
the  best  possible  influences  should  be  brought 
to  bear  on  her.  And  yet  I  don't  quite  know 
that  she  will  understand  the  '  brooding  East' — 
the  Mother  of  Dreams  and  Mysteries.  Amelie 
comes  of  the  'impious  youuger  world.'  You 
must  have  noticed  what  a  terribly  candid 
mind  she  has,"  he  said,  rather  addressing 
himself  to  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  that  person,  frankly. 

"But  not  hard  and  literal — not  unreceptive," 
he  interposed,  hastily.  "  She  has  really  a  fine 
sympathy  for  fine  things ;  only,  as  I  say,  the 
things  must  be  fine.  And  she  has  the  most 
profound  contempt  for  the  ordinary  funny 
American ;  you  need  fear  nothing  on  that 
score       I   think   you    said   you    would   allow 


A    DEVIATION.  6r 

her  to  go  about  with  you  a  little  when  you 
went  ashore  anywhere  ? — you  see,  her  mother 
is  something  of  an  invalid,  and  is  not  likely 
to  leave  the  ship  much.  And  you  need  not 
be  afraid  of  any  of  that  affected  irreverence 
— any  of  that  continuous  and  feeble  flippancy 
that  becomes  so  distressing. " 

"Oh  no,  no,  no,  Mr.  Wolfenberg ! "  the 
small  woman  says.  "  We  shall  be  delighted 
to  have  Miss  Dumaresq  with  us.  If  we  have 
to  fear  any  irreverence  or  mischief- making, 
it  is  from  this  American-Highlander  here." 

"  Oh,  listen  to  her  ! "  exclaims  Peggy,  with 
awe-stricken  eyes.  "  Me  ?  You  accuse  me 
of  such  a  thing !  And  you,"  she  goes  on, 
turning  to  her  other  neighbour,  "what  have 
you  to  say  to  such  a  charge  ?  Have  you  not 
a  word  in  my  defence  ?  " 

"  '  The  noblest  answer  unto  such  Is  perfect 
stillness  when  they  brawl/  " 

But  yet  again  Peggy  speaks  up  on  her  own 
behalf — and  speaks  up  boldly  too. 


62  WOLFENBERG. 

"  Why,  as  for  that,"  she  says,  "  don't  you 
imagine  you  are  going  to  turn  me  into  a 
regulation  tourist.  I  will  not  be  instructed 
on  any  pretence  whatever.  I  will  not  follow 
a  guide  about.     I  will  not  read  up  history." 

"Not  a  little  English  history?"  puts  in 
the  small  woman,  with  her  usual  ignoble 
sarcasm. 

"And  I  like  the  notion,"  continues  Peggy, 
"of  you  two  talking  to  me  about  my  serious 
duties! — you  two,  who  are  the  most  obstinately 
indolent,  the  very  worst  sight-seers  I  ever 
beheld !  But  do  as  you  please.  Swallow  all 
the  churches  and  mosques  if  you  like.  But 
not  for  me,  thank  you.  Why,  the  only  idea 
of  an  Englishman  that  exists  in  the  French 
imagination  is  that  he  is  a  tall  man  with  a 
red  book.  Well,  I  don't  wish  to  be  ticketed 
off  in  that  way.  I  am  a  free-born  American, 
I  am.  Sacramento  was  my  dwelling-place, 
and  Scotland  is  my  nation " 

"  What   your   salvation    is    likely   to   be," 


A   DEVIATION.  63 

says  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit  (for  she,  too,  has 
heard  of  the  old  rhyme),  "  it  would  be  hard 
to  say — unless  you  keep  a  more  civil  tongue 
in  your  head." 

Next  morning  we  were  nearing  the  end 
of  the  first  stage  of  our  voyage.  And  yet 
it  cannot  be  said  that  these  familiar  features 
around  us  had  grown  in  any  way  monotonous  ; 
nay,  they  had  been  constantly  beautiful — 
the  long  decks  ablaze  in  the  sunshine ;  the 
gently-moving  shadows  of  the  ropes  and 
spars ;  the  soft  twilight  under  the  awnings ; 
outside  the  great  circle  of  blue  sea — that 
deep,  opaque,  fierce  Mediterranean  blue  that 
is  like  nothing  else  in  heaven  or  earth ;  and 
overhead  the  pale  sky  of  the  south — a  faint 
rose-purple,  fading  to  white  at  the  horizon. 
But  all  the  same,  as  we  slowly  streamed  into 
the  vivid  green  waters  of  the  harbour  of 
Algiers,  there  was  something  in  change ;  and 
the  eye  rather  welcomed  those  brilliantly- 
coloured   boats,  with  their  swarthy  boatmen. 


64  WOLFENBERG. 

And  then,  instead  of  sea  and  sky  meeting 
featureless  all  around  the  horizon,  here  was 
a  great  shining  city — a  perfect  blaze  of  yellow- 
white  buildings  on  the  face  of  a  long  ridge 
of  hill  that  was  crowned  by  far-extending 
masses  of  olive -green  foliage.  Picturesque 
enough  in  its  way :  the  shimmering,  trans- 
lucent water,  with  its  parti- coloured  craft ; 
then  the  long  extent  of  arched  stores  and 
wharves ;  then  the  tall,  French-looking 
terraces  ;  then  the  mass  of  flat-roofed  Moorish 
houses,  with  here  and  there  the  rounded  dome 
of  a  mosque.  Not  so  impressive,  naturally, 
as  a  wholly  Eastern  city;  but  nevertheless 
something  novel  to  look  upon — after  those 
long  days  of  blue-and-silver  glancing  seas. 

Of  course  there  was  some  little  excitement 
about  going  ashore  :  parties  being  hastily 
formed,  and  the  eager  ones  getting  early  away 
in  the  ship's  boats.  Our  own  little  group, 
including  Wolfenberg  and  Miss  Dumaresq, 
lingered    for  long   irresolute,  hardly  knowing 


A   DEVIATION.  65 

whether  it  was  worth  while  in  view  of  our 
leaving  again  in  the  afternoon ;  but  finally  we 
decided  upon  going  in  the  very  last  boat, 
which  happened  to  be  the  steam-launch.  And 
yet  it  was  not  we  who  were  responsible  for 
any  delay  ;  it  was  the  Passionate  Poetess ;  for 
just  as  we  had  all  got  comfortably  settled  in 
the  launch,  and  the  engineer  was  about  to  set 
the  screw  revolving,  she  appealed  to  the 
Purser. 

"  One  moment,  Mr.  Purser,  please !  I 
really  cannot  leave  my  little  dog  !  I  am  so 
afraid  of  those  men  !  I  will  not  detain  you 
a  minute." 

Black  grew  the  Purser's  brows  ;  but  he  did 
not  utter  a  word ;  while  Sappho  hurriedly  got 
out,  and  began  to  ascend  the  accommodation- 
ladder  with  such  speed  as  was  possible  in  the 
circumstances.  To  us  it  mattered  little,  but 
she  certainly  was  a  long  time  away ;  then  we 
beheld  her  coming  down  again,  her  precious 
charge  borne   in  one  arm.     Would  that   that 

VOL.  I.  F 


66  WOLFENBERG. 

had  been  all !  But  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder  a 
dreadful  accident  occurred.  Her  foot  slipped 
somehow ;  she  clung  to  the  iron  stanchion 
with  one  hand ;  inevitably  she  swung  round  ; 
and  alas  !  in  saving  herself  from  being  pitched 
headforemost  into  the  sea,  she  was  forced  for 
a  moment  to  abandon  Phaon,  who  inconti- 
nently tumbled  down  on  to  the  grating  and 
next  into  the  water.  Immediately  there  was 
a  mighty  commotion  :  it  was  as  if  a  baby  had 
to  be  saved.  Arms  were  stretched  out — and 
stretched  out  in  vain ;  Sappho,  who  had 
sprung  on  board  the  launch,  called  frantically 
on  Phaon ;  while  the  fat  little  grey  pug,  with 
his  black  snout  and  wrinkled  forehead  well 
out  of  water,  was  splashing  away  with  his 
fore-paws,  and  swimming,  as  much  as  he  could 
swim,  in  the  wrong  direction.  And  then  the 
man  at  the  bow,  seizing  a  boat-hook,  made  a 
dash  at  him.     Sappho  shrieked. 

"  Don't  !— don  t !— you'll    kill    him  !  "    she 
called,  piteously ;   for  she    evidently  thought 


A   DEVIATION.  67 

the  man  wanted  to  gaff  the  animal,  as  one 
would  gaff  a  salmon. 

But  what  he  really  meant  to  do  was  to 
hook  up  the  silken  string  attached  to  Phaon's 
collar ;  and  in  this  he  succeeded ;  the  dog  was 
led  down  aft,  and  hauled  on  board,  and 
delivered  to  his  mistress  ;  and  she,  exhausted 
by  these  wild  emotions,  and  overjoyed  to  get 
her  beloved  into  the  very  midst  of  us,  made 
him  finally  secure  by  depositing  him,  stream- 
ing, and  shaking  himself,  and  winking  his 
beady  eyes,  right  on  to  the  Majors  polished 
boots. 

What  our  respected  friend  said  upon  this 
occasion  can  never  now  be  known  ;  for  there 
was  a  sudden  rattle  of  the  engine,  and  a  whirr 
of  the  screw  ;  but,  as  he  tried  to  withdraw  his 
feet  from  under  this  sprawling  encumbrance, 
there  was  a  look  on  his  face  that  was  too  awful 
to  contemplate  without  apprehension.  And 
what  must  she  do  but  heap  insult  upon  injury  ? 

"  Major,  would  you  mind   holding  this  for 


68  WOLFENBERG. 

a  moment  ? "  she  said,  handing  him  the  blue 
si] ken  string.  "  Phaon  is  so  impulsive — so 
imretuous " 

"  Nurse  and  jam  the  confounded  little 
beast  !  "  said  the  Major — or  rather  it  was 
something  resembling  these  sounds  that 
escaped  from  between  his  set  teeth ;  but 
probably  she  did  not  hear,  for  there  was  such 
a  spluttering  noise  from  the  engine.  At  all 
events,  he  was  forced  to  hold  the  string  for 
her ;  while  she  proceeded  to  open  her  hand- 
bag, and  from  thence  she  took  a  small  brush, 
and  with  that  she  began  to  smooth  down 
Phaon's  dripping  coat,  while  in  vain  did  the 
Major  try  to  get  his  feet  away  from  the 
prancing  and  dancing  of  those  four  restless 
legs.  We  began  to  fear  that  Phaon  would 
not  see  the  end  of  this  voyage. 

Meanwhile  we  got  ashore,  and  climbed  the 
stifling  hot  steps,  and  crossed  the  blinding 
white  Boulevard,  and  were  glad  to  escape 
from  the  glare  of  the   sunlight  into  the  cool 


A   DEVIATION.  69 

shadows  of  the  Jardin  Marengo,  with  its 
branching  palms,  and  bamboos,  and  tall 
tamarinds.  But  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  mind- 
ful of  former  days  on  the  Nile,  and  anxious 
to  renew  her  acquaiutance  with  those  Arabs 
whose  dignity  of  deportment  she  had  always 
so  much  admired,  was  soon  ready  to  be  off 
again.  Had  she  not  under  her  wing  this 
young  American,  whose  nascent  artist-mincl 
was  hungering  after  new  impressions  ? 

And  as  we  went  wandering  idly  through 
the  town,  choosing  the  more  shaded  thorough- 
fares, one  could  not  but  admire  the  delicate 
way  in  which  Wolfenberg  recognized  that 
Amelie  Dumaresq  had  been  confided  to  the 
elder  lady's  charge.  He  claimed  no  right  of 
association  ;  he  was  just  as  the  others ;  nay, 
he  rather  kept  away  from  her.  But  at  times, 
of  course,  he  had  to  call  her  attention  to  this 
thing  or  that  ;  and  then  he  would  do  so  in  a 
curiously  respectful  way.  For  example,  in  the 
Rue    Bab    Azoun    we   came    upon    an   oddly 


70  WOLFENBERG. 

incongruous  sight — a  shabby-looking  little 
French  omnibus  filled  with  grave  and  stately 
and  silent  Arabs,  in  their  turbans  and  flowing 
white  robes. 

"Amelie,"  he  said,  stepping  up  to  her, 
"  there  is  a  subject  for  you." 

She  glanced  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"  It  is  too  bizarre,"  she  answered  him. 

"It  is  Algiers,"  he  said,  and  then  he  fell 
back  again  into  the  order  of  our  procession. 

For  we  were  going  two  and  two,  and  even 
then  we  did  not  escape  remark.  The  Major 
and  Lady  Cameron  led  the  way;  and  no  doubt 
they  were  conspicuously  foreigners  ;  the  Major 
being  plump,  and  fresh-coloured,  and  cheerful- 
looking,  while  Peggy  was  tall,  and  fair-com- 
plexioned,  and  handsome.  And  now  it  was 
that  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit  grew  wroth.  For 
while  the  Arabs,  calm,  serious,  impassive  of 
demeanour,  went  by  without  appearing  to  take 
the  slightest  notice  of  us,  the  low- class  French 
pojDulation  turned   to   stare  at  the  strangers, 


A   DEVIATION.  71 

grinning,  chattering,  and  nudging  each  other. 
Nay,  one  yellow-skinned  little  wretch  of  a  boy 
had  the  audacity  to  look  up  at  our  Peggy,  and 
say  "  Ole  raight ! "  This  it  was  that  set  the 
smaller  woman's  soul  ablaze. 

"  Miss  Dumaresq,"  said  she,  "  has  it  ever 
occurred  to  you  that  it  is  only  the  northern 
nations  of  Europe  that  have  the  faculty  of 
laughing  ?  The  French  never  laugh.  They 
haven't  the  physique.  They  can  only  snigger." 
Here,  indeed,  was  a  stupendous  generalization  ; 
and  all  because  an  impudent  little  Algerian 
gamin  had  mocked  at  our  tall  young  friend 
from  Inverfask. 

There  was,  of  course,  nothing  of  this  kind 
when  we  had  got  away  up  into  the  Arab 
quarter  of  the  city.  As  we  were  slowly  per- 
ambulating the  steep  and  narrow  thorough- 
fares, and  admiring  the  endless  variety  and 
picturesqueness  of  costume  and  colour,  Miss 
Dumaresq  turned  to  her  temporary  guardian. 

"  When  we  came  ashore  at  first,"  said  she,  "I 


72  WOLFENBERG. 

thought  we  had  made  a  mistake.  I  thought  we 
had  got  into  nothing  but  a  second-rate  French 
town.  But  now  I  should  like  to  spend  six 
months  in  Algiers — or  three  or  four  times  that." 

"  You  are  beginning  too  soon,"  said  her 
companion,  with  a  smile.  "  At  least,  if  you 
go  on  in  the  same  way,  by  the  time  we  have 
finished  this  voyage  you  will  have  formed 
plans  for  two  lifetimes." 

When  at  last  we  made  away  back  again  for 
the  Boulevard,  and  came  in  sight  of  the  Hotel 
de  l'Europe,  we  descried  various  groups  of  our 
fellow- Orotanians,  just  as  you  are  sure  to  find 
English  people  hanging  about  Shepheard's 
Hotel  in  Cairo.  The  first  person  we  en- 
countered inside  was  the  Passionate  Spinster, 
who  was  in  dire  distress,  for  she  could  get 
nobody  to  attend  to  her.  So  she  threw 
herself  upon  us.  She  besought  the  Major  to 
find  a  safe  corner  in  the  saloon,  where  Phaon 
might  be  tied  up.  She  asked  if  she  might 
have  a  seat  at  our   table.     And  when,  after 


A    DEVIATION.  73 

lunch,  it  was  suggested  that,  instead  of  sending 
for  two  carriages,  we  ought  simply  to  charter 
one  of  those  small  omnibuses  with  the  open 
windows  and  curtains,  which  would  be  so 
much  cooler,  and  would  accommodate  the 
whole  of  us,  she  eagerly  embraced  that 
proposition,  counting  herself  in.  And  thus 
it  was  that  she  who  claimed  kinship  with 
cthe  Lesbian  woman  of  immortal  fame' 
bestowed  her  society  on  us  during  our  drive 
out  to  Mustafa  Inferieur.  Why  not  ?  After 
all,  human  beings  are  of  different  kinds,  and 
the  world  is  wide. 

"  Yes,  but  an  Algerian  omnibus  is  narrow," 
said  the  Major,  subsequently ;  and  the  mere 
recollection  of  his  sufferings  once  more  aroused 
in  him  a  furious  wrath.  "  By  heavens,  I  will 
strangle  that  little  beast  if  it  ever  comes  near 
my  legs  or  feet  again  ! " 

Before  we  got  under  weigh  that  afternoon 
an  apparently  trifling  incident  occurred  which 
we    had    occasion    afterwards   to    recall.      A 


74  WOLFENBERG. 

French  Colonel  and  his  wife,  with  their  little 
girl,  had  come  out  to  look  over  the  ship ;  and 
while  the  former  were  talking  to  the  captain, 
the  latter  was  being  made  much  of  by  a 
number  of  the  young  ladies  on  board.  But 
this  small  creature  of  seven  or  eight  remained 
proof  against  all  their  blandishments.  She 
was  absolutely  imperturbable,  regarding  them, 
it  is  true,  but  not  responding  in  any  way 
whatever.  They  tried  her  with  various  kinds 
of  French,  including  that  of  Ollendorff  and 
that  of  Stratford-  atte-Bo  we — Aimez-vous 
VAfrique  f  .  .  .  Vas-tu  promener  partout 
d  voir  le  vaisseau?  .  .  .  Allons,  descendons 
au  salon  et  je  te  donnerai  des  sucres.  .  .  . 
Petite,  serrez  les  mains  chez  moi.  .  .  . 
Travaillez-vous  a  vos  lecons,  mademoiselle  ? 
.  .  .  N'avez  vous  pas  une  seule  parole  pour 
nous  f  .  .  .  As-tu  regarde  le  capitaine  de  la 
shippe  ?  .  .  .  Such  were  the  rags  and  tags  of 
this  ingenuous  and  one-sided  conversation  that 
came  floating  towards  us.     But  no  ;  they  could 


A   DEVIATION.  75 

win  no   response.      She   remained  quite  im- 
passive and  silent. 

Now  it  was  at  this  moment  that  a  young 
Eussian  who  had  not  gone  ashore — indeed,  he 
had  hitherto  mixed  but  little  with  his  fellow- 
passengers — came  along,  took  up  the  book  he 
had  left  in  his  deck-chair,  and,  sitting  down, 
began  to  read.  He  was  quite  near  to  this 
small  child,  but  he  did  not  pay  any  attention 
to  her ;  she,  on  the  contrary,  regarded  him 
attentively  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then, 
as  if  drawn  by  curiosity  or  by  some  more 
occult  attraction,  went  close  up  to  his  chair. 
He  became  aware  of  her  approach,  and  raised 
his  eyes  from  his  book.  Very  beautiful  eyes 
they  were,  if  it  is  not  absurd  to  call  a  man's 
eyes  beautiful — blue-grey,  dark-lashed,  and 
full  of  light ;  and  when  they  were  bent  on  this 
small,  inquisitive  stranger,  she,  who  had  hither- 
to seemed  so  entirely  abstracted  and  indifferent, 
smiled  in  response.  Nay,  she  held  out  her 
tiny  hand.     "Bonjour,  monsieur!"  she  said. 


76  WOLFENBERG. 

And  of  course  he  accepted  that  timid  proffer 
of  comradeship  at  once ;  he  spoke  to  her  ;  she 
replied  to  him,  in  her  pretty  and  childish  way ; 
and  so,  in  the  most  simple  and  easy  fashion  in 
the  world,  these  two  had  become  friends. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  ? — isn't  that  remark- 
able ? "  said  Amelie  Duniaresq,  in  a  quick 
undertone,  to  Wolfenberg.  "Tell  me,  Ernest, 
who  is  he  ? — he  hardly  ever  speaks  to  any  one." 

"  He  is  a  Eussian — Hitrovo — Paul  Hitrovo," 
was  the  answer,  also  uttered  guardedly. 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  Have  you  talked 
with  him  ? " 

"  A  little." 

"Will  you  introduce  him  to  me — some 
other  time  ? " 

Wolfenberg  looked  surprised,  almost  startled. 

"  Oh  yes,  if  you  wish  it — oh  yes,  certainly," 
he  said — while  the  fascinated  small  French 
girl  was  still  standing  by  Paul  Hitrovo's  chair, 
listening  to  him,  and  looking  up  into  his 
smiling  eyes. 


(      77      ) 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN    INTRODUCTION. 

And  again  the  gods  have  given  us  a  gracious 
morning  ;  the  heavens  cloudless  and  serene ; 
the  far-stretching  circle  of  the  sea  rolling  its 
blue-black  waves  and  lapping  and  flashing  in 
the  sun  ;  an  unstable  world  save  for  the  long 
and  mountainous  rampart  down  there  in  the 
south — the  grey-scarred  and  sterile-looking 
cliffs  of  the  African  coast.  And  here,  under 
the  welcome  shade  of  the  awning,  one  comes 
upon  two  of  the  passengers  who  appear  to  be 
in  close  and  earnest  confabulation.  It  is  of 
Wolfenberg  and  Amelie  Dumaresq  they  are 
talking. 

"  Well,  Missis,"  says  the  Lady  of  Inverfask, 
addressing  her  friend  by  the  last  invented  of 


78  WOLFENBERG. 

all  her  innumerable  sobriquets,  "  I  cannot 
understand  wiry  you  should  be  so  apprehensive. 
You  yourself  admit  that  such  a  relationship 
would  be  beautiful,  if  only  it  could  be  made 
permanent.  What  is  to  hinder  its  beiDg 
permanent  ?  Miss  Dumaresq  would  tell  you 
that  it  is  all  the  more  likely  to  last  because 
there  is  no  bond,  because  it  is  voluntary, 
because  each  knows  that  the  other  could 
break  away.  What  she  says  is  simply  this  : 
'  Husbands  and  wives  lead  a  far  happier  life, 
a  far  more  eauable  and  contented  life,  when 
they  have  ceased  to  be  lovers,  and  have 
become  good  friends.  Why,  then,  should  not 
Mr.  Wolfenberg  and  I  take  up  the  latter  half 
of  this  relationship,  since  the  former  is  im- 
possible ? '  You  know  her  frank  way  of  speak- 
ing. And  her  ideas  are  as  clear  as  her  speech. 
She  is  no  school-girl,  with  her  head  full  of 
sentiment  and  dreams.  She  has  seen  the 
world.  She  has  had  experience  of  men — and 
not  a  very  fortunate  one,  I  imagine  :  you  see 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  79 

the  family  are  rich ;  and  I  rather  fancy,  from 
one  or  two  things  she  said,  that  she  has  made 
unpleasant  discoveries — or,  at  least,  had  un- 
pleasant suspicions — with  regard  to  certain  of 
the  young  men  who  came  about  her.  But 
here  is  a  man  whom  she  can  absolutely  trust ; 
whom  she  admires  and  respects  beyond 
measure  ;  with  whom  she  is  in  sympathy  on 
every  point ;  and  why  should  not  their  close 
and  constant  association  together  be  as 
permanent  as  any  marriage-bond  ?  According 
to  her,  it  is  the  conjugal  relationship  that  dis- 
enchants ;  here  there  can  be  no  disenchantment ; 
they  remain  to  each  other  just  as  they  are. 
And  look  at  their  comradeship  in  art :  another 
tie.  She  must  perceive  that  he  has  all  the 
qualities  that  she  lacks :  another  reason  for 
sympathy.  And  then  his  solitary  position ; 
she  pities  him  ;  she  is  resolved  to  stand  by 
him — oh,  I  don't  see  that  you  should  be  so 
apprehensive ! " 

For  a  second  or  two  the  smaller  woman  was 


So  WOLFENBERG. 

silent— looking  absently  across  the  flashing 
waters  to  the  pale  line  of  mountainous  coast. 
At  last  she  said — 

"  Well,  Peggy,  if  I  were  Mr.  Wolfenberg,  I 
would  go  ashore  at  the  very  first  port  we  come 
to,  and  I  would  make  my  way  back  to 
America." 

"  To  be  met  at  New  York  by  that  woman, 
with  a  troop  of  her  drunken  companions  ?  " 

The  conversation  could  not  be  continued 
further ;  for  at  this  moment  Miss  Dumaresq 
herself  appeared,  coming  quickly  along  the 
deck,  her  head  raised  and  careless,  her  arms 
swinging  a  little  with  the  mere  exuberance  of 
life.  The  small  and  graceful  figure  looked  neat 
in  its  Sunday-morning  costume  of  black  silk 
and  white  frills ;  and  when  she  came  up  it  was 
apparent  that  she  had  paid  particular  heed  to 
her  toilet — the  high- arched,  dark  eyebrows  had 
been  touched,  perhaps  also  the  pretty  mouth. 
But  it  was  not  of  that  she  was  thinking. 

"I  have  some  news  for  you,"  said  she,  with 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  *  81 

great  animation,  and  her  brilliant  black  eyes 
were  full  of  pleasure  and  eagerness,  ''but  it 
must  not  be  spoken  of ;  you  must  not  mention 
it  to  any  one ;  and  especially  not  to  Mr. 
AVolfenberg.  He  has  just  been  telling  me ; 
and  what  a  surprise  it  is  !  For  we  quite 
understood  that  he  was  going  to  take  the  full 
seven  weeks'  holiday  ;  but  with  an  artist  like 
him  a  sudden  inspiration  takes  possession ; 
and  it  is  no  use  his  trying  to  put  it  aside  and 
turn  to  it  later  on.  What  do  you  think,  then, 
of  the  subject  Mr.  Wolfenberg  is  considering  ? 
— the  Fountain  of  Callirrhoe  !  "  She  was  quite 
breathless  with  the  joy  of  this  discovery ;  but 
she  had  to  speak  in  tones  of  subdued  excite- 
ment, for  there  were  other  people  now  coming 
along.  "  Can  you  not  imagine  what  he  will 
make  of  it — the  deserted  Greek  girl  killing 
herself  by  the  side  of  the  water — or,  perhaps, 
the  dead  girl  disappearing — I  don't  know,  but 
this  I  do  know,  that  it  will  be  something  to 
make  one's  fingers  tremble  and  make  one's 
yol.  r.  g 


82  WOLFENBERG. 

eyes  fill.  It  will  be  splendid  —  splendid  ! 
And  no  one  must  speak  to  him  about  it,  or  he 
will  be  anxious  and  discontented,  and  perhaps 
throw  the  subject  aside  altogether;  no,  it  must 
be  allowed  to  grow  up  of  itself  in  his  mind, 
quite  in  silence,  and  then — then  some  day  you 
will  see!  And  just  think  of  this:  he  has 
asked  my  advice  ! — my  advice ! — as  if  I  and 
my  wooden  dolls  could  be  of  any  use  to  him  ! 
Prospero,  the  master  of  spirits,  come  to  ask 
the  advice  of  Caliban  carving  sticks  !  " 

"  At   least   it   was    a   great   honour,"    said 

"  And  now  he  will  dream  about  that  all  the 
way  until  we  get  to  Athens,"  she  went  on — 
and  really  this  exhilaration  of  interest  added 
quite  a  new  charm  to  the  pretty  face  and  the 
lustrous  dark  eyes ;  "  and  it  does  not  matter 
whether  the  real  fountain,  if  there  is  one,  lends 
itself  well  or  not :  the  picture  will  be  already 
complete  in  his  mind.  I  am  delighted  !  You 
know  I  was  rather  afraid  that  mother  and  I 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  83 

had  forced  this  idleness  on  him — he  is  so  ready 
to  sacrifice  himself ;  and  I  feared,  too,  he 
might  be  bored  by  the  society  of  two  women. 
But  now  I  am  quite  at  ease.  Now  he  will 
never  want  for  companionship  and  for  occu- 
pation so  long  as  he  has  his  picture  to  think 
about ;  and  when  you  notice  him  walking  up 
and  down  by  himself,  and  not  speaking  to 
any  one,  you  need  not  imagine  he  is  idle.  Ah, 
I  tell  you,  you  will  see  something  when  you 
see  the  Fountain  of  Callirrhoe  !  " 

Welcome  news  ;  but  perhaps  we  were  even 
better  pleased,  and  more  interested,  in  observ- 
ing the  genuine  enthusiasm  with  which  this 
girl  spoke  of  AVolfenberg's  work.  That  was 
at  least  one  bond  the  more  between  these  two 
oddly  situated  persons. 

This  was  a  Sunday  morning ;  there  was 
service  on  deck,  under  the  awning  ;  the  young- 
women's  voices  sounded  sweet  and  clear  above 
the  monotonous  swish  of  the  waves  along  the 
vessel's  side. 


8  4  WOLFENBERG. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Passionate  Spinster 
bore  clown  upon  us,  bringing  with  her  a  whole 
armful  of  translations — and  Lempriere.  There 
was  no  escape ;  she  had  skilfully  cut  off 
retreat ;  and  soon  the  tale  of  her  unnumbered 
woes  was  unfolded.  It  turned  out  that  she 
had  heard  from  one  of  the  officers  that  on  the 
following  morning  we  should  be  within  sight 
of  the  shores  of  Sicily,  the  song-haunted 
island  ;  and  with  a  generous  ardour  she  had 
set  to  work  to  prepare  herself,  first  of  all  by 
tracing  out  the  wanderings  of  Ulysses.  But 
there  were  riddles  and  disappointments  in  the 
way  ;  and  now,  as  she  spoke,  the  sandy-haired 
woman  with  the  cold  grey  eyes  seemed  to  be 
in  a  bit  of  a  temper. 

"It  really  is  too  bad!"  she  said,  fretfully. 
"You  cant  trust  one  of  these  books.  You 
would  think  that  since  they  have  been  labour- 
ing away  at  their  mechanical  tasks  through 
so  many  generations,  there  might  be  a  little 
agreement  among  them.     But  why  does  one 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  85 

say,  '  mother  of  dawn,  the  rosy-fingered 
morning,'  while  another  says,  '  daughter  of 
dawn,  the  rosy-fingered  morning ; '  and  why 
do  they  write  Aias  when  they  mean  Ajax  ; 
and  what  on  earth  is  the  use  of  saying 
Peleides  instead  of  Achilles,  and  Atreides 
instead  of  Agamemnon  ? " 

Now  these  were  amazing  questions  to  come 
from  the  perfervid  Sappho,  who  continually 
adorns  her  pages  with  copious  quotations  from 
the  Greek  and  Latin — inaccurate  for  the  most 
part,  no  doubt,  but  of  excellent  intention. 

"  However,  it  is  the  geography  that  is  most 
irritating,"  she  continues,  with  more  than  a 
"snap"  of  anger  in  her  voice.  "Look  at  the 
confusion  caused  by  having  Phseacia,  Scheria, 
Corcyra,  Corfu — four  names — all  for  the  same 
place !  And  one  writer  tells  you  that 
Calypso's  island  is  Gozo,  which  is  close  by 
Malta,  and  another  declares  that  it  is  Ogygia, 
supposed  to  be  opposite  Lacinium  !  " 

At  this   point,   unhappily,   the    volume    of 


86  WOLFENBERG. 

Lempriere  fell  upon  Pliaon  ;  and  the  lament- 
able howl  that  the  poor  little  beast  set  up 
awoke  the  Major,  who  was  asleep  in  a 
neighbouring  chair.  The  Major  turned  round, 
glared,  muttered  something,  doubtless  of  an 
unholy  character,  to  himself — and  then, 
struggling  to  his  feet,  made  his  way  to  the 
grating  surrounding  the  wheel-box,  where  he 
again  sought  soft  slumber,  though  in  a  far 
more  uncomfortable  position. 

"  You  see  they  will  not  call  anything  by 
a  simple  name  !  "  exclaimed  our  poetess,  with 
a  savage  wrath  which  we  were  sorry  to  see 
agitating  so  celestial  a  mind.  "  When  Ulysses, 
after  leaving  iEolia,  is  ship-wrecked,  he  is 
thrown  upon  the  coasts  of  the  Lasstrygones  ; 
but  the  coasts  of  the  Lasstrygones  are  simply 
Sicily  ! — and  it  is  Sicily  that  he  has  quite 
recently  left,  after  having  escaped  from  the 
giant  Polyphemus " 

"Miss  Penguin,  why  should  you  bother 
with     boys'      stories  ! "      interposed     Amelie 


AN  INTRODUCTION,  87 

Dumaresq,  with  a  touch  of  disdain.  "  Sicily 
for  me  will  be  the  land  of  Hermione,  and 
Perdita,  and  the  good  Camillo,  and  the  statue 
that  becomes  a  woman  before  the  eyes  of  the 
King.  That  is  something  worth  thinking 
about !  " 

"  And  I,"  puts  in  our  Peggy,  "  am  going 
to  find  out  from  which  port  Antigonus  and 
Hermione's  child  could  have  sailed  when  they 
were  blown  on  the  shores  of  Bohemia." 

"The  shores  of  Bohemia?"  is  the  in- 
credulous cry. 

"  Yes,"  she  says,  calmly.  "  Didn't  you 
know  that  the  dukes  of  Bohemia  had 
possessions  and  seaports  on  the  Adriatic 
coast1?"  For  Peggy  is  always  flourishing 
this  profound  piece  of  erudition  before  us — 
though  some  of  us  may  have  dark  doubts  as 
to  its  authenticity. 

Meanwhile,  what  had  become  of  the  young 
Eussian  whose  beautiful  eyes  had  thawed  the 
frigidity  of  the  little  French  girl ;    and  what 


88  WOLFENBERG. 

had  become  of  the  introduction  that  Amelie 
Dumaresq  had  asked  for?  Well,  for  one 
thing,  M.  Paul  Hitrovo  was  rather  a 
mysterious  and  enigmatical  young  man. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  he  generally  passed  the 
morning  in  the  deck  smoking-room,  whiling 
away  the  time  with  cigarettes,  no  one  could 
say  precisely  how  or  where  he  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  day,  He  rarely  mixed  with 
his  fellow-passengers ;  he  never  joined  in  any 
of  the  games  going  forward ;  he  came  late  to 
meals,  and  remained  after  the  others  had  left. 
Then,  again,  a  formal  introduction  is  an  un- 
usual, and  a  marked,  thing  on  board  ship :  we 
could  understand  Wolfenberg's  embarrassment 
over  her  blunt  request.  On  board  ship  people 
make  each  other's  acquaintance  through  a 
variety  of  little  accidents,  or  through  some 
chance  talking  to  a  common  friend.  But  as 
for  going  to  a  young  man  and  saying  that  a 
certain  young  lady  wished  that  he  should  be 
introduced  to  her — how  was  such  a  thinsr  to 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  89 

be  done,  especially  when  the  go-between  was 
so  proud  and  sensitive  a  person  as  Ernest 
Wolfenberg  ?  He  of  all  men  would  be  the 
first  to  shrink  from  anything  that  seemed  to 
compromise,  in  the  remotest  degree,  this 
young  lady  who  had  made  so  unexpected  a 
demand. 

And,  indeed,  it  was  in  an  entirely  hap- 
hazard fashion  that  their  coming  together  was 
accomplished,  on  this  same  Sunday  afternoon. 
The  Dumaresqs  and  several  others  had  gone 
below  to  have  tea,  and  they  had  just  taken 
their  places  when  Hitrovo  came  into  the 
saloon,  looking  around  him  in  his  customary 
indolent,  good-natured  way. 

"  Won't  you  come  to  our  table  ? "  said 
Wolfenberg. 

"  If  I  may,"  he  answered,  smiling ;  and 
forthwith  he  installed  himself  in  one  of  the 
chairs,  opposite  Miss  Dumaresq  and  her 
mother. 

There  was   no   set   introduction.     After   a 


90  WOLFENBERG. 

second  or  two  he  quite  naturally  and  simply 
joined  in  the  general  talk,  speaking  excellent 
English,  with  hardly  a  trace  of  accent.  He 
was  singularly  good-looking ;  he  had  pleasant 
manners ;  so  far  from  trying  to  impress  or 
shine,  he  seemed  in  a  measure  indifferent ; 
and  those  clear  blue-grey  eyes  of  his,  when 
they  lighted  on  a  woman,  bespoke  favour  for 
him.  But  the  curious  thing  was  that  his 
coming  to  this  table  appeared  to  have  frozen 
up  Amelie  Dumaresq.  Ordinarily  eager  and 
animated,  thrilling  with  life  and  loquacious, 
she  was  now  constrained  and  embarrassed ; 
she  did  not  glance  his  way  at  all ;  she  kept 
her  eyes  downcast  or  averted ;  she  was  silent. 
Her  mother  might  join  in  this  random  con- 
versation about  the  ship  and  our  prospects  : 
she  had  not  one  word.  For  the  first  time 
since  we  had  made  her  acquaintance  she 
seemed  to  have  lost  her  self-possession ;  and 
on  that  account  it  was  all  the  more  marked. 
But  Hitrovo  did  not  appear  to  notice  ;  he  had 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  91 

enough  to  do  in  talking  to  these  other  ladies, 
who  were  all  more  or  less  strangers  to  him. 
And  when  at  length  he  went  away,  it  was 
clear  that  he  had  impressed  them  most 
favourably. 

"  Well,  Amelie,  I  brought  him  to  you," 
Wolfenberg  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  Ernest,"  she  answered,  with  some 
touch  of  confusion.  "  I — I  did  want  to  find 
out  something  about  him — after  the  incident 
with  the  little  French  girl.  That  struck  me. 
But  I  hardly  wonder  at  it.  He  has  extra- 
ordinary  eyes." 

So  she  had  glanced  at  him,  after  all  ? 

"  That  French  child,"  said  Mrs.  Dumaresq, 
"  has  began  early  to  find  out  that  gentlemen's 
eyes  may  be  attractive." 

"There  was  more  than  that,  mamma.  She 
went  up  to  him  while  he  was  still  reading," 
the  daughter  made  reply  ;  but  she  was  clearly 
not  inclined  to  enter  into  any  discussion  about 
this   young   man,   or   his  looks,    or   ways,    or 


92  WOLFENBERG. 

manners.  Presently  she  rose  and  left  the 
table,  and  went  up  on  deck,  taking  her 
book  with  her,  and  choosing  a  chair  where 
she  could  be  by  herself. 

Towards  evening  we  could  make  out  the 
sharp  peaks  of  Galita  island,  far  away  ahead 
of  us  in  the  mystic  grey  of  the  east ;  and  as 
night  closed  round  us  there  was  the  golden 
ray  of  the  lighthouse  streaming  out  from  time 
to  time. 

The  morning  found  us  among  the  iEgadean 
Isles,  off  the  west  coast  of  Sicily — those  lonely 
and  voiceless  rocks,  lofty,  and  arid,  and  scarred 
— their  ruddy  cliffs  set  in  a  perfect  calm  of 
blue  sea.  Sappho  was  running  all  about  the 
ship  imploring  people  to  tell  her  whether 
it  was  on  the  mainland  or  on  one  of  those 
islands  that  Ulysses  encountered  the  Cyclops ; 
Peggy  was  delighted  to  discover  that  we 
should  reach  Palermo  early  in  the  afternoon, 
for  she  wanted  to  snatch  away  the  Baby  from 
all  possibility  of  brigands ;  Mrs.  Threepenny- 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  93 

bit  was  expecting  letters,  to  learn  how  many 
more  teeth  her  precious  boys  had  had  knocked 
out  at  football ;  and  the  Major  was  secretly 
disclosing  to  one  or  two  friends  a  plan  he  had 
formed  for  enticing  Phaon  away  from  his 
mistress  in  the  streets  of  Palermo,  and  intro- 
ducing him  to  a  sausage-maker.  In  short, 
there  was  quite  a  stir  with  the  beginning 
of  the  new  week  and  our  nearing  another 
halting-place.  Even  Paul  Hitrovo  came  on 
deck,  and  talked  a  little  with  Mrs.  Dumaresq, 
her  daughter  standing  by,  looking  on  and 
listening. 

But  it  was  with  Wolfenberg  that  Amelie 
Dumaresq  spent  most  of  the  morning  and 
noon,  for  no  doubt  the  two  artists  had  much 
to  observe  and  talk  of  in  common,  as  we 
steamed  on  by  Cape  St.  Yito,  and  across 
the  Gulf  of  Castellamare,  and  past  the  evil- 
named  Punta  deH'Uomo  Morto,  making  on- 
wards for  Cape  Gallo.  This  northern  coast 
of   Sicily  is    magnificently  picturesque :    vast 


94  WOLFENBERG. 

and   precipitous    cliffs    of  a  sombre  red,  here 
and    there    rising    into    darker   peaks,    about 
as    sharp    as    the    Aiguilles    overlooking   the 
Mer  de  Glace,  here  and  there  dipping  down 
into  a  spacious  valley,  with  groves  of  orange 
and  citron  sweltering  in  the  heat.     A  lonely 
coast  it  seemed,  too :  it  was  at  long  intervals 
that  a  little  grey  powder,  as  it  were — a  thin, 
insignificant   line   at   the  foot   of  those  giant 
cliffs — revealed  a  village  down  by  the  shore. 
In    times    of  storm   and   louring  skies,   these 
bold  headlands,  and  the  long  spurs  terminating 
in    a   solitary   lighthouse,    must    look    grand 
indeed ;    but    now,    as    we    saw   them    across 
the  trembling  and  shimmering  blue  sea,  they 
had  grown  visionary  and  spectral  in  the  haze 
of  settled  fine  weather.     The  intervening  air 
seemed  to  be  dense  with  sunlight. 

And  what  did  those  two  think  of  Palermo 
— Palermo  the  Superb — as  we  slowly  steamed 
into  the  pellucid  green  water  ?  To  the  non- 
professional eye  the  more  striking  features  were 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  95 

obvious  enough :  a  noble  bay,  far  extending, 
with  long  moles  and  promenades ;  white 
terraces  just  above  the  sea ;  public  gardens, 
with  foliage  of  freshest  verdure ;  then  the 
gradually-ascending  town,  with  its  countless 
domes  and  spires ;  and  behind  all  that  a 
mighty  semicircle  of  mountains,  twisted  and 
torn  and  thrown  about  as  if  by  the  hand  of 
some  scene-painter  gone  out  of  his  senses. 
Indeed,  one  began  to  ask  one's-self  if  all 
this  were  quite  real — if  it  were  solid,  in  fact. 
Was  there  not  some  strange  suggestion  of  a 
huo;e  wooden  frame,  with  a  breadth  of 
shivering  canvas  stretched  over  it  ?  Those 
white  terraces,  and  green  gardens,  and  domes 
and  spires,  and  wildly-twisted  mountain - 
peaks :  were  they  permeable  to  a  draught 
of  air  coming  from  over  the  stalls  ?  And 
if  one  were  to  whistle  suddenly,  would  not 
a  number  of  dusky  and  shabby  men  imme- 
diately rush  out  and  run  the  whole  panoramic 
thing  away  on  wheels  ? 


96  WOLFENBERG. 

If  this  was  what  Amelie  Dumaresq  was 
thinking  of  the  imposing  city  before  her, 
she  was  speedily  startled  out  of  her  reverie. 
All  at  once,  and  just  as  we  were  about  getting 
to  our  anchorage,  but  while  there  was  still 
considerable  way  on  the  vessel,  it  was 
discovered  that  the  steam  steering-gear  had 
got  out  of  order.  The  swiftness  with  which 
this  mishap  was  rectified  was  admirable. 
Before  any  of  the  passengers  quite  understood 
what  had  happened,  the  first  officer  and 
four  or  five  of  the  hands  had  hurried  aft 
to  the  wheel,  unshipped  the  case,  got  the 
mechanism  into  working-trim,  and  the  next 
minute  the  ship  was  answering  her  helm 
just  as  if  nothing  had  occurred.  And 
presently  we  heard  the  sonorous  call,  "Let 
go  the  anchor  ! " — followed  by  a  roar  and  a 
plunge  that  must  have  made  that  canvas  city 
quake. 

Then  the  various  boats  that  had  come  out 
from    the    harbour — heavily   built  craft,  most 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  97 

of  them,  and  gay  of  colour — began  to  make 
for  the  steamer ;  while  on  board  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  bustle  among  those  preparing 
to  go  ashore.  But  we  were  never  among 
the  first  of  these ;  and  so  it  chanced  that 
Mrs.  Threepenny-bit  was  idly  gazing  over 
the  side,  when  her  eye  caught  sight  of 
something. 

"Peggy/'  she  called,  "here  are  some  visitors 
in  one  of  the  boats — is  this  your  sister  ?  " 

Peggy  came  running. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious,  it's  the  Baby  ! "  she 
cried,  in  wild  delight.  "  And  these  are  the 
Vincents  with  her — how  kind  of  them  ! — they 
have  brought  her  over  from  Naples."  And 
with  that  she  waved  her  handkerchief  franti- 
cally, and  succeeded  in  arresting  their  atten- 
tion, for  there  was  an  answering  signal ;  and 
then  she  went  quickly  to  the  top  of  the  ac- 
commodation-ladder ;  and  probably  she  would 
even  have  descended  the  steps  to  meet  them — 
disarranging  all  the  traffic — but  that  the  third 

YOL.  I.  H 


98  WOLFENBERG. 

officer,  who  was  busily  engaged  in  getting  his 
boat-loads  away,  sternly  refused  to  allow  her. 
Well,  not  very  sternly,  perhaps.  The  fact  is, 
it  seemed  to  us  that  this  young  man  never 
missed  an  opportunity  of  conversing  with 
Peggy  ;  and  even  now,  while  he  was  occupied 
in  packing  off  the  passengers,  he  found  quite 
enough  time  to  chat  with  her.  No,  not  at  all 
sternly ;  for  more  than  one  waltz  had  she 
given  him  on  those  marvellous  moonlit  nights 
off  the  coast  of  Portugal,  and  many  another 
he  might  reasonably  hope  to  secure  before  we 
saw  English  land  again.  In  truth  it  was 
simply  to  talk  to  her  that  he  detained  her 
at  the  top  of  the  ladder. 

At  last  the  way  was  clear  ;  and  here  was 
the  Baby — blushing  furiously  at  the  amount 
of  attention  bestowed  on  her — ascending  the 
steps.  And  it  was  not  until  the  two  sisters 
had  got  through  a  considerable  amount  of 
hugging,  and  kissing,  and  laughing,  and 
questioning,  that  we  had  a  chance  of  seeing 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  99 

what  "  my  sister  Emily  "  was  like.  She  was 
brought  forward  to  us — and  her  friends  ac- 
companied  her.  Well,  she  was  no  rival  to 
our  peerless  and  incomparable  Peggy ;  that 
was  not  to  be  expected ;  but  she  was  a 
good-looking  lass  none  the  less — ingenuous 
of  aspect,  and  grave — timid  also,  though  that 
may  have  been  because  of  her  suddenly 
finding  herself  among  strangers.  She  was 
not  so  fair  as  Peggy ;  nor  so  slender  either  ; 
she  promised  to  be  of  the  Amazon  type  ;  but 
yet  there  was  something  very  winning  about 
her  shy  ways,  and  her  self-consciousness,  and 
her  modest  desire  to  please.  As  for  Peggy, 
she  made  no  concealment  as  to  the  alteration 
in  her  own  life  likely  to  be  caused  by  the 
arrival  of  this  serious-eyed  young  maid  ;  with 
a  sigh  of  regret  she  relinquished  her  past 
privileges  and  freedom  from  restraint ;  there 
would  be  no  more  fun  for  her  now,  she  said, 
since  the  Baby  had  come  on  board. 

Well,  we  lazy  folk  did  not  care  to  go  ashore 


ioo  »  WOLFENBERG. 

this  afternoon ;  Amelie  Dumaresq  had  for  once 
persuaded  her  mother  to  bestir  herself;   and 
those     two     and     Wolfenberg —  the    faithful 
Wolfenberg — went  away  by  themselves.     The 
good  friends  with  whom  the  Baby  had  been 
travelling  were  much  interested  in  the  ship  ; 
they  spent   a  considerable  time  in   exploring 
it ;  and  in  the  end  they  were  easily  persuaded 
to    stay   to    dinner.      And    on    this    evening 
it  must  be  admitted  that  Palermo  retrieved 
itself;  it  cast  aside  that  look  of  a  sad  and 
bad  and  mad  chromo-lithograph  ;  it  assumed 
dignity  when  the  arid    hills  grew  dark  and 
solemn  against   the  westering  glow,  and   the 
lighthouses  began   to   send  their  steady  rays 
through     the     gathering     dusk.       Mystery — 
sentiment — the    subtle,    elusive,    imaginative 
quality  in   landscape   that    is  unapproachable 
by  inferior   or  mechanical    art — was    now   in 
the  air,  as  "  the  sun  sank,  and  all  the  ways 
were  overshadowed/'     Then  minute  points  of 
fire  began  to  appear  here  and  there   in  the 


AN  INTRODUCTION.  101 

town  like  goldeu  glowworms.  And  these 
again,  as  the  night  fell,  were  outshone  by 
others  of  a  very  different  colour,  the  blue- 
white  radiant  stars  of  the  electric  lamps  along 
the  esplanade,  that  sent  long,  quivering  reflec- 
tions down  on  the  smooth-heaving  black  water 
between  us  and  the  shore.  Palermo  was  now 
brilliantly  illuminated — a  blaze  of  splendour ; 
for  there  was  a  public  festa  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Villa  Giulia,  and  that  also  helped. 
The  whole  dark  surface  of  the  sea  was 
dancing  and  glittering  with  those  wrill-o'-the- 
wisps  of  imaged  lights. 

Our  new  friends  stayed  late,  chatting  on 
deck  ;  but  when  at  length  they  decided  to  go, 
we  took  them  along  to  the  top  of  the  ac- 
commodation-ladder, so  that  they  should  have 
the  first  chance  of  a  boat  returning  to  the 
shore.  And  just  as  we  reached  the  gangway, 
who  should  appear  but  the  Dumaresqs,  mother 
and  daughter,  Amelie  Dumaresq  being  in  a 
very  gay  and  laughing  and  vivacious  mood. 


102  WOLFENBERG. 

But  it  was  not  Wolfenberg  alone  who  was 
their  escort :  the  dull,  orange-hued  glow  of 
the  lamp  showed  us  that  there  were  two 
gentlemen  following  them  upwards  from  that 
black  gulf  of  water.  And  the  fourth  member 
of  the  party  turned  out  to  be  Paul  Hitrovo  : 
we  learned  that  he  had  been  so  kind  as  to 
accompany  the  two  ladies,  along  with  Wolfen- 
berg, to  the  festival  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Villa  Giulia. 


(      io3      ) 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   HOROSCOPE. 

As  we  make  for  the  shore  on  this  fair-shining 
morning  there  is  a  heavy  ground-swell  running 
in  :  long,  smooth,  unbroken,  oily-green  waves 
that  lift  the  steam-launch  high  in  air  and 
seem  to  leave  it  suspended  for  a  time,  until 
it  glides  down  again,  spluttering  and  snorting 
and  rolling,  into  the  next  great  ocean- valley. 
The  boat  is  filled  with  our  good  Orotanians ; 
and  there  is  quite  a  blaze  of  white  costumes ; 
for  the  sun  promises  to  be  fierce.  Some,  whom 
we  hardly  envy,  are  about  to  ride  away  up  to 
the  top  of  Monte  Pellegrino — the  vast  brovfn 
slope  beyond  the  bay  is  already  shimmering 
in  the  heat ;  others,  of  more  modest  ambition, 
mean    simply   to   wander    about    the    shady 


104  WOLFENBERG. 

thoroughfares  of  the  city,  studying  the  remains 
of  Moorish  architecture  ;  as  for  our  small  party, 
we  are  bent  on  a  pious  pilgrimage  to  the 
distant  Monreale  among  the  hills.  And  who 
so  proud  as  the  Major  on  this  auspicious 
morning — the  Major,  to  whom  we  have  handed 
over  Lady  Cameron  and  her  sister  ?  For 
what  with  the  advent  of  the  Baby,  and  what 
with  Mrs.  Duniaresq  having  again  consigned 
her  daughter  to  our  care,  it  is  obvious  that 
we  shall  have  to  separate  into  two  carriages 
as  soon  as  we  reach  the  shore ;  and  who  so 
competent  to  take  command  of  one  of  these 
as  our  gallant  if  elderly  soldier  ?  Joyful, 
indeed,  is  the  Major,  and  assiduous ;  Peggy 
looks  demure,  taking  care  not  to  meet  the 
grave  glances  of  her  friends ;  while  the  Baby, 
serious,  unconscious,  regards  in  an  impressed 
kind  of  way  the  great  panoramic  town  and 
its  background  of  mountains.  Mrs.  Three- 
penny*bit  has  declared  herself  quite  charmed 
with    the    Baby,       Her    ingenuousness,    she 


A   HOROSCOPE.  105 

affirms,  is  as  sweet  and  fresh  and  wholesome 
as  the  flowers  in  a  cottage  garden.  There 
are  no  underhand  ways  about  her.  Her  eyes 
never  say  two  things  at  once.  She  wouldn't 
sit  in  corners,  and  speak  low,  and  ignore  a 
whole  room-full  of  people  for  the  sake  of  one. 
And  so  forth.  It  is  curious  to  notice  how 
envy  crops  up  on  the  most  unexpected 
occasions. 

But,  as  it  chanced,  a  sad  fate  befell  the 
Major  after  all.  On  landing  at  the  mole,  we 
found  ourselves  surrounded  by  a  wildly- 
gesticulatory  crowd  of  drivers  and  would-be 
guides ;  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  push 
through  these,  unheeding,  and  take  forcible 
possession  of  the  nearest  vehicle,  Miss  Dumaresq 
being  pulled  in  by  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit  with 
much  adroitness.  Then  we  turned  to  see  how 
the  Major  and  his  charges  were  getting  on. 
Well,  he  had  secured  a  carriage ;  and  he  had 
got  the  two  ladies  safely  deposited  therein ; 
and   doubtless   he  was   about  to  join   them, 


106  WOLFENBERG. 

when  at  this  very  moment  the  Passionate 
Poetess  came  up,  carrying  Phaon  in  her  arms. 
The  clamour  of  this  crowd  of  unwashed 
Sicilians  prevented  our  hearing  what  she  said ; 
but  what  took  place  was  clear  enough.  Sappho 
was  appealing  to  Lady  Cameron  to  let  her 
have  the  vacant  seat  in  the  carriage ;  and 
at  once  Peggy — who  is  the  soul  of  good 
nature — smilingly  assented  ;  while  the  Baby 
politely  changed  over  to  the  other  side.  Then 
we  saw  the  Major  compelled  to  assist  his 
deadly  enemy  to  her  place,  and  not  only  that, 
but  he  had  to  shove  Phaon  along  before  he 
could  himself  follow.  Avanti !  And  when 
Amelie  Dumaresq's  face  appeared  again  from 
behind  her  sunshade,  she  was  wiping  away  the 
tears  from  her  eyes.  She  had  been  outrageously, 
and  wickedly,  and  cruelly  laughing. 

And  very  merry  and  light-hearted  was  she 
as  we  drove  away  through  the  town  and  out 
into  the  open  and  ever-ascending  country. 
Wolfenberg  smiled  in  a  calmly  tolerant  fashion. 


A   HOROSCOPE.  107 

It  was  no  business  of  his  to  play  the  part  of 
tutor  ;  nay,  he  was  always  glad  when  he  saw 
her  amused  or  amusing  others.  And  yet  it 
must  be  said  for  this  young  lady  that,  however 
careless  she  might  seem  of  her  surroundings, 
there  was  very  little  escaped  her  sharp  and 
observant  eyes.  She  might  be  laughing  and 
telling  stories  of  her  fellow- students  at  the 
Atelier  Didron;  but  her  glance  took  note  of 
one  object  after  another — a  Moorish-looking 
building,  a  gaily-decorated  cart,  a  horse 
staggering  along  under  an  enormous  load, 
and  suffering  from  hideous  sores  (though 
nobody  is  likely  to  miss  that  familiar  feature 
of  a  Sicilian  highway).     And  at  last  she  said  : 

"  Ernest,  when  my  little  exhibition  is  opened 
in  London,  T  must  send  an  invitation  to  Papa 
Didron.  Do  you  think  he  will  ccme  over  ? 
Well,  I  fear  not ;  he  is  too  busy.  But  he 
must  know  of  my  great  importance." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  that,  Amelie,"  said 
Wolfenberg,  who    not  only  invariably  talked 


io8  WOLFENBERG. 

as  though  this  constant  companionship  between 
herself  and  him  was  to  last  through  all  the 
years  of  their  life,  but  also,  in  this  particular 
instance,  as  though  he  were  going  to  act  the 
part  of  showman  for  her.  "  I  will  make  sure 
of  that.  For  one  thing,  I  must  get  to  know 
the  London  correspondents  of  the  Paris  papers  ; 
they  may  be  interested  •  they  ought  to  notice 
the  pictures.  Why,  it  is  a  piece  of  news. 
And  then  you  are  a  daughter  of  France  as 
far  as  art  is  concerned." 

"  Oh,  listen  to  him ! "  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Threepenny-bit,  in  simulated  horror. 

"  I  don't  mean  as  regards  landscape,"  he 
interposed,  good-naturedly.  "  I  know  your 
heretical  opinion  of  French  landscape " 

"  French  landscape!"  she  said,  in  open 
disdain.  "  French  landscape  is  landscape  seen 
by  limelight ;  all  very  effective,  no  doubt,  in 
spinach  green,  and  cold  grey,  and  black  ;  but 
where  is  the  luminosity,  where  is  the  sunlight, 
where  is  the  throbbing  air?      And  yet  how 


A    HOROSCOPE.  109 

can  you  wonder  ? "  she  went  on,  apparently 
for  the  mere  amusement  of  the  thing — for  her 
vehemence  seemed  a  little  bit  assumed. 
"  What  are  the  poor  men  to  do  ?  God 
made  the  world  out  of  nothing  ;  but  French 
artists  are  not  quite  so  clever — they  can't 
make  landscapes  out  of  those  monotonous  and 
treeless  wastes  ;  and  so  they  construct  effective 
studies  of  light  and  shade — limelight  and  false 
shade.  And  England  is  just  as  bad  in  the 
opposite  direction.  England  is  too  con- 
ventionally picturesque.  The  mist  gives  you 
the  atmospheric  values  all  ready-made  to  hand. 
The  clouds  are  low  down,  and  come  easily  into 
the  picture  ;  distances  are  arranged  for  you  ; 
and  then  the  country  is  all  broken  up  with 
hedges,  and  coppices,  and  small  fields,  and 
farms — everything  you  could  wish.  Now,  at 
home — in  America,  I  mean — you  have  to 
wrestle  with  your  subject — you  have  got  to 
face  it — the  light  is  clear  and  hard — there  is 
no  compromise." 


no  WOLFENBERG. 

"  There  never  is  any  compromise  about  you, 
Amelie,"  Wolfenberg  said,  laughing.  "  But  if 
you  wish  to  see  throbbing  air  and  luminosity, 
just  you  get  up  in  the  carriage  and  look  back." 

For  by  this  time  the  patient  horses  had 
dragged  us  away  up  towards  La  Eocca ;  and 
when  we  rose  to  regard  the  landscape  that 
now  stretched  out  far  below  us,  we  beheld  the 
famous  Conca  d'Oro,  that  immense  and  fertile 
valley  filled  with  the  fresh  deep  green  of 
orange  groves  and  lemon  groves,  with  the 
dusty  heights  of  Monte  Grifone  rising  on 
the  right,  while  in  front,  and  away  beyond 
the  partly-hidden  city,  the  vast  breadth  of 
pale  blue  sea  trembled  through  the  heat, 

"  I  must  get  down,"  she  said ;  "  there  is 
more  freedom  to  look  about  when  you  are 
walking." 

And  indeed  our  slim-built  and  energetic 
Peggy  had  already  descended  from  the  other 
vehicle ;  and  so  had  the  Baby ;  and  so  had 
their   gallant   escort ;    Sappho    and    the    pug 


A    HOROSCOPE.  in 

remaining  in  sole  possession  of  the  carriage. 
And  thus  the  re-united  party  went  forward 
together,  leisurely  climbing  the  white  and 
dusty  road  ;  our  goal,  the  Fiesole-like  Mon- 
reale,  perched  high  on  a  hill,  being  now  within 
view.  Hot  it  was.  The  Major  began  to 
murmur  hints  about  a  trattore,  and  about  a 
bottle  of  something  combined  with  seltzer. 
The  arid  rock  by  the  wayside  had  been  hewn 
into  small  terraces  by  the  cactus-growers  ;  and 
the  prickly  pears  had  borrowed  a  charming 
tinore  of  colour  from  the  sun :  but  the  one  or 
two  we  tried  afforded  us  no  kind  of  satisfaction. 
The  only  cool  thing  visible  was  the  fresh  green 
of  the  great  valley  :  it  was  pleasant  to  let  the 
eyes  wander  down  towards  those  far- stretching, 
dense,  luxuriant  orange  groves. 

"When  at  length  we  had  toiled  up  to  the 
queer,  deserted-looking  little  town,  we  made 
straight  for  the  Duomo,  which,  in  truth,  was 
the  only  thing  we  had  come  to  see.  But  on 
entering  the  square,  we  perceived  that  we  were 


ii2  WOLFENBERG. 

not  the  first  of  the  Orotanians  :  Paul  Hitrovo 
and  a  companion,  whose  acquaintance- he  had 
made  on  board,  were  standing  on  the  pave- 
ment just  outside  the  Cathedral,  the  former 
smoking  a  cigarette. 

"  Well,  that  is  a  surprise  ! — I  wonder  if  he 
has  sat  up  all  night  ? "  said  Mrs.  Threepenny- 
bit,  who  had  never  been  too  favourably  disposed 
towards  this  young  man,  despite  his  achieve- 
ment of  fascinating  the  small  Algerian. 
"  Major,"  she  continued  in  an  undertone, 
"  everybody  gets  to  hear  everything  about 
everybody  else  on  board  ship.  Who  is  that 
Mr.  Hitrovo  \ " 

"  Gad,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  Major,  con- 
tentedly. "  You'd  better  ask  the  young 
ladies  :  they  seem  mostly  interested  in  him." 

"The  common  gossip,"  put  in  Wolfenberg, 
with  a  certain  quiet  indifference,  "  is  that  he 
is  of  a  very  good  Eussian  family.  Lives  in 
Vienna,  mostly;  and  belongs  to  the  sporting 
circles  there.     He   told   me   himself  that   he 


A    HOROSCOPE.  113 

had  won  the  Prix  cle  Consolation   at  Monte 
Carlo  last  year — pigeon-shooting." 

"But  what  could  have  induced  him  to  take 
a  voyage  like  this — without  knowing  a  single 
soul   on   board,   apparently  ? "  she   demanded 


again. 


"That  I  cannot  say,"  he  made  answer. 
"  Sheer  idleness  comes  as  a  relief  sometimes — 
but  not  often  to  one  of  his  age." 

As  they  spoke,  Amelie  Dumaresq  had 
glanced  from  the  one  to  the  other,  quickly  and 
furtively  ,*  but  she  said  no  word ;  indeed  she 
could  not ;  for  now  we  were  approaching  the 
great  doors  of  the  Cathedral,  and  here  were 
Hitrovo  and  his  fellow  Orotanian  raising  their 
hats  as  the  ladies  went  by.  The  next  moment 
we  were  in  a  still  and  hushed  twilight,  with 
a  soft  sound  of  shuffling  footsteps  audible  in 
the  motionless  air. 

And  presently  we  also  were  prowling  about 
in  this  stealthy  and  silent  fashion,  regarding 
the  massive  columns  and  porphyry  pillars,  the 

VOL.  I.  I 


H4  WOLFENBERG. 

bronze  doors,  the  arabesques,  the  Biblical 
stories  writ  large  in  mosaic,  the  dull  golden 
glow  of  the  roof.  But  in  walking  about  in 
this  fashion,  little  groups  get  separated,  com- 
mingle, separate  again,  so  that  the  presence  or 
absence  of  any  one  person  is  hardly  noticed. 
Thus  it  was  that  when  we  came  to  leave  the 
building,  we  discovered  that  Amelie  Dumaresq 
was  not  with  us  :  even  Wolfenberg  had  not 
observed  her  withdrawal  —  he  had  been  so 
much  interested  in  this  architectural  treasure- 
house. 

But  almost  directly  we  discovered  whither 
she  had  gone.  She  was  standing  just  outside 
the  door  of  the  Cathedral,  sketch-book  in  hand, 
making  a  study,  or  pretending  to  do  so,  of  a 
withered  little  old  man  who  was  sweeping  the 
pavement.  She  was  not  alone.  Paul  Hitrovo 
was  standing  by  her,  not  overlooking  her  work, 
but  talking  to  her,  while  there  was  some 
amusement  visible  in  her  face.  They  formed 
quite    a    charming    group,    those    two    young 


A    HOROSCOPE.  115 

people  :  he,  slender  and  elegant,  with  a  certain 
careless  grace  of  attitude  and  manner,  perhaps 
a  little  conscious  of  his  good  looks — of  his  soft 
and  silken  brown  hair,  his  small  and  neatly- 
wraxed  moustache,  and  his  extraordinary  blue- 
grey  eyes ;  she,  of  a  more  southern  type,  the 
long  black  lashes  downcast  as  her  glance  came 
back  from  her  model  to  her  book,  her  manner 
almost  shy,  the  exquisitely-formed  lips  smiling 
a  little,  her  ungloved  hands,  small  and  plump 
and  warm  and  white,  looking  somehow  as  if, 
were  you  to  touch  them,  there  would  be  a 
sudden  shock,  so  full  of  vitality  they  seemed. 
She  was  not  working  very  industriously  ;  she 
was  listening,  rather ;  and  she  was  pleased  and 
amused.  A  very  pretty  group  indeed  they 
formed — in  the  cool  shadow  of  the  Cathedral, 
with  the  sunlit  square  beyond. 

Wolfenberg  hung  back,  as  though  he  would 
rather  not  interrupt  her ;  but  the  rattling 
forward  of  our  carriage  attracted  her  attention, 
and  at  the  same  time  she  became  aware  that 


n6  WOLFENBERG. 

we  were  awaiting  her  good  pleasure.  She 
snapped  the  book  to  at  once. 

"Well,"  said  she,  brightly,  as  she  took 
her  place  in  the  carriage,  "  have  you  all  of 
you  worshipped  sufficiently  at  the  shrine  of 
St.  Gew-Gaw  ? " 

"  I  feared  you  would  not  be  impressed, 
Amelie,"  Wolfenberg  said,  as  we  drove  away : 
the  young  Eussian  stood  looking  after  us  for 
a  moment  or  two,  then  he  turned  to  his 
companion  :  they  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  leave 
this  little  town  on  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"  Impressed  ?  "  Miss  Dumaresq  said,  almost 
petulantly.  "  I  was  glad  to  get  out  into  the 
honest  daylight.  I  cannot  understand  making 
a  place  of  worship  a  show-house,  and  imposing 
on  you  with  sham  decoration.  Now  when 
you  go  into  a  Gothic  cathedral  like  Strassburg 
or  Cologne,  you  feel  at  once  that  there  is 
something  about  it  noble,  and  simple,  and 
solemn,  and  reticent ;  but  all  that  rococo 
Byzantine  splendour — and  the  tawdry  magni- 


A    HOROSCOPE,  117 

ficence  of  the  Eenaissance  churches — is  to 
me  insufferably  sickening.  Then  if  you  come 
to  those  crude,  stupid  pictures  in  mosaic  :  I 
dare  say  they  may  be  historically  interesting ; 
but  you  know  very  well,  Ernest,  that  as 
Art  they  are  mere  monstrosities.  But,  above 
all,  I  hate  to  be  treated  like  a  child — I  hate 

to  be  cheated " 

Wolfenberg  (who  seemed  to  have  been  a 
little  serious  as  we  came  away  from  the 
Cathedral)  now  turned  to  the  small  woman 
who  was  in  charge  of  us  all ;  and  there  was 
a  grave  and  good-humoured  smile  on  his 
face. 

"Won't  you  interpose  ?  "  he  said.  "There 
is  one  point  on  which  Amelie  and  I  never 
agree  :  and  I  can  see  she  is  coming  to  it. 
I  think  St.  Mark's  at  Venice  the  most 
beautiful  thing  in  the  world.  She  thinks — 
what  do  you  think,  Amelie  ?  " 

Well,  Miss  Iconoclast  had  the  courage  of 
her  convictions. 


irS  WOLFENBERG. 

"  St.  Mark's  in  Venice/'  said  she,  calmly. 
4 'Mr.  Wolfenberg  knows  what  I  think  of  it. 
It  seems  to  me  nothing  but  an  enormous 
sham — a  pretence — pretty  enough  no  doubt, 
but  a  gigantic  mass  of  deception.  There  is 
not  an  ounce  of  solid  reverent  work  in  the 
whole  place ;  it  is  all  veneer ;  it  pretends  to 
be  a  marble  building,  whereas  it  is  in  reality 
a  brick  building  faced  with  marble  ;  and  now 
that  the  thin  slices  are  beginning  to  crack 
and  fall  off,  the  truth  is  being  revealed. 
Trickery,"  she  went  on,  more  vehemently, 
"  is  bad  enough  everywhere  ;  but  in  a  temple 
it  is  particularly  out  of  place.  I  don't  wonder 
there  are  winking  Virgins  when  the  church 
is  turned  into  a  theatre  to  deceive  people." 
But  here  she  suddenly  stopped,  with  a  very 
pretty,  and  childish,  and  shamefaced  little 
laugh.  "Ernest,"  she  said,  affecting  to  be 
angry,  "why  did  you  lead  me  on  to  speak 
of  St,  Mark's  at  Venice  \  " 

"Why?"  he  answered  her,  with  his  usual 


A    HOROSCOPE.  119 

gentleness  and  indulgence.  "  Because  our 
friends  here  must  have  learned  by  this  time 
that  ordinarily  and  almost  always  you  have 
a  singularly  accurate  and  unbiassed  mind, 
with  clear  perception,  and  frank  judgment ; 
and  I  wished  them  to  see  that  all  the  same 
you  could  be  as  wildly  unreasonable  and 
prejudiced  as  any  woman  that  ever  breathed. 
I  wanted  to  show  that  you  were  human, 
Amelia" 

"  Ah,  you  say  that  because  you  cannot 
defend  veneer,"  she  retorted,  but  she  was 
laughing  now,  and  in  a  fine  good  humour, 
and  happy  with  herself  and  her  surround ings. 
"  That  is  your  only  answer.  Well,  we  must 
agree  to  differ.  And  as  St.  Mark's  is  all 
tumbling  into  the  mud,  it's  of  very  little 
consequence." 

Then  we  drove  away  down  into  the  valley, 
and  through  abundant  orange  groves,  until 
we  reached  the  gates  leading  to  the  Villa 
Tasca ;     and    there,    leaving    both    carriages 


i2o  WOLFENBERG. 

without,  we  entered  the  spacious  grounds 
that,  in  the  absence  of  the  beneficent  pro- 
prietor, are  thrown  open  to  the  public.  And 
here,  amid  all  the  luxuriance  of  tropical 
foliage,  amid  the  bewildering  masses  of 
colour,  and  the  statues,  and  miniature  lakes 
and  fountains,  it  was  quite  delightful  to  see 
how  the  nature  of  this  child  of  the  south 
seemed  to  expand,  as  she  drank  in  the  hot, 
spice-perfumed  air.  She  was  talking  to  every 
one  at  once ;  she  was  trying  to  catch  the  swift- 
darting  lizards  ;  she  uttered  little  exclamations 
of  joyous  surprise  when  opening  vistas  revealed 
still  further  splendours  of  deep  rose-red  or 
flaming  scarlet.  Peggy,  on  the  other  hand, 
walked  sedate  and  observant,  listening  civilly 
and  sweetly  to  the  ever-attentive  Major.  The 
tall,  Juno-eyed  Baby  looked  so  grave  and 
majestic  that  we  were  almost  ashamed  of 
ourselves  for  heeding  these  idle  things  of 
the  hour.  There  appeared  to  be  no  other 
visitors   in   these  beautiful   gardens.     Sappho 


A    HOROSCOPE.  121 

and  her  pug  had  stayed  iri  the  carriage  ; 
she  preferred  to  await  us  there ;  and  we 
had  only  to  recall  the  derivation  of  the  word 
cynosure  to  determine  what  occupied  her  un- 
divided and  admiring  regard. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  town,  it  seemed 
to  be  the  universal  wish  of  the  women-folk 
to  remain  loitering  about  the  sultry  streets, 
for  the  reason  that  it  would  be  some  time 
before  they  got  another  opportunity  of  shop- 
ping ;  so — being  of  no  manner  of  use  to  them, 
but  rather  in  the  way,  indeed — we  left  them, 
under  charge  of  the  Major ;  and  returned 
to  the  ship,  and  to  the  welcome  shade  of 
the  awning.  And  thus  it  was  that  one 
happened  to  obtain  a  fuller  knowledge  of 
the  peculiar  relations  that  existed  between 
Wolfenberg  and  Amelie  Dumaresq ;  for  here, 
on  the  deck  of  the  deserted  vessel,  there  was 
silence  and  privacy ;  and  then,  so  careful 
was  he  of  the  smallest  things  that  might 
affect    her    in    the    estimation   of    others,    he 


122  WOLFENBERG. 

seemed  to  fancy  that  some  kind  of  apology 
was  needful  for  her  harsh  treatment  of  St. 
Mark's. 

"  Downright  honesty  is  her  constant  aim," 
he  said,  in  his  absent  way,  as  if  he  were 
contemplating  some  creature  of  his  imagina- 
tion, before  actually  fixing  it  down  with 
strokes  of  carbon.  "  She  scorns  pretence  of 
any  kind ;  and  she  has  the  courage  to  say 
what  she  thinks.  ...  I  suppose  some  people 
might  find  her  character  repellent.  To  me 
it  is  most  attractive.  But  even  if  they  found 
her  repellent,  they  could  not  say  she  was 
'tin interesting.  She  is  too  much  of  a  living 
and  breathing  human  being  for  that ;  she 
shows  you  too  much  of  her  personality ;  she 
may  startle  you  and  offend  you,  but  at  least 
you  must  be  interested  in  her.  .  .   ." 

There  was  no  response.  Perhaps  he  did 
not  expect  any.  At  all  events,  he  continued 
in  the  same  preoccupied  way,  almost  as  if  he 
were  talking  to  himself : 


A    HOROSCOPE,  123 

"  Her  mind  is  downright,  accurate,  uncom-  . 
promising  ;  she  cannot  tolerate  illusions.     And 
that  is  why  I  sometimes  think  it  is  impossible 
she  can  ever  become  possessed  by  the  greatest 
and  most  terrible  of  all  illusions — the  idealism 
of  love.     I  do  not  think  that  will  ever  happen 
to  her.     She  sees  too  clearly.  .  .  .  She  would 
probably  despise  that  idealisation  and  treat  it 
as  mere  sentiment.  .  .  .  And  there  again  she 
would  be  wrong.     It  is  a  tremendous  force  ; 
the  most  powerful   thing  in   the  world — and 
the  most  destructive.     The  delirium  of  love  : 
it   is   as    intangible  as  frost ;    but    it  can  do 
more  than   merely  split  up  rocks  and  cliffs  : 
it  has  split  up  empires — and  ruined  millions 
of  men's  lives.  .  .   .  Some  people  seem  even 
to    doubt    its    existence.   .   .  .  Exists  ?      You 
may  be  sure  that  Mother  Nature  takes  care 
that    it    exists.     She    is   cunning  enough    for 
that.      Why  does    she   give   a   crimson    tinge 
to  the  rose-petal  ?     Why  does  she  fill  a  young 
man's    head   with   ideals   of   maidenly  beauty 


124  WOLFENBERG. 

and  perfection,  and  persuade  him  that  a 
rather  commonplace  young  woman  entirely 
corresponds  to  these,  or  even  exceeds,  them  ? 
...  Of  course  he  finds  out  in  time.  The 
wonderful  angel  is  revealed  to  him  as  an 
ordinary  creature  of  clay.  But  meanwhile 
Mother  Nature  has  got  her  part  done  ;  she 
has  succeeded  in  her  aim :  the  race  is 
perpetuated.  Whatever  tragedy  of  dis- 
enchantment or  repulsion  may  follow  is  no 
business  of  hers." 

And  here  again  one  could  say  nothing, 
knowing  the  dark  background  there  was  to 
this  man's  life. 

"  No,"  he  continued,  "  I  do  not  think  that 
Amelie  Dumaresq  could  ever  become  the 
slave  of  a  great  passion.  Her  intelligence 
is  too  penetrating.  Her  mind  is  acute, 
accurate,  observant " 

"  She  is  a  woman." 

"  She  is  an  artist.  That  way  lies  her 
ambition.     Her    interests    are    centred    there. 


A    HOROSCOPE.  125 

Her  plans  of  life  have  already  been  formed, 
and  not  without  sufficient  and  earnest  study. 
.  .  .  Sometimes,  indeed,  I  think  you  do  not 
understand  her  yet.  Probably  you  do  not ;  it 
is  hardly  to  be  expected.  You  see  her  merry, 
laughing,  childish,  pleased  with  trifles.  And 
that  is  all  honest,  mind  you,  absolutely 
honest  :  it  is  simply  that  she  so  completely 
and  wholly  enjoys  every  moment  of  living  : 
to  breathe  the  air — to  look  at  a  flower — to 
listen  to  a  waltz — everything  has  a  fascination 
for  her.  But  that  is  only  on  the  surface. 
Her  nature  is  deeper  and  stronger  than  that. 
She  is  an  artist ;  she  has  serious  aims ;  this 
butterfly  existence  is  pretty  enough — and  I 
for  one  am  delighted  to  look  on  when  she 
is  in  her  gayest  and  most  frivolous  moods ; 
but  that  is  not  Amelie  Dumaresq.  Her 
mother  could  tell  you  differently.  Her 
mother  could  tell  you  of  this  girl  sitting  up 
till  four  in  the  morning,  in  the  dead  of 
winter,  in  front  of  a  fire  that  had  o;one  out 


126  WOLFENBERG. 

dreaming  and  thinking  of  her  work,  her 
fingers  almost  frozen  to  the  crayon,  and  yet 
hardly  more  than  a  suggestion  or  two  put 
down  on  paper.  For  you  must  understand 
this  :  she  is  capable  of  idealisation  ;  only  it 
is  not  the  idealisation  that  would  bewilder 
her  senses  and  blind  her  in  her  choice  of  a 
husband,  should  such  a  thing  ever  happen,  as 
I  think  it  will  not ;  it  is  the  idealisation  that 
lends  charm  to  the  commonest  objects  she 
finds  suited  to  her  art.  And  it  comes  back 
to  that :  she  has  chosen  her  path  in  life, 
and  nature  has  given  her  the  means  to  follow 
it.  Amelie  Dumaresq  is  an  artist — au  bout 
des  ongles!' 

This  he  said,  and  a  great  deal  more  to  the 
same  effect,  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
deck,  sometimes  looking  across  the  water  to 
the  great  bulk  of  Monte  Pellegrino,  that  was 
now  growing  sombre  in  the  warm  evening 
light.  And  one  could  not  avoid  the  suspicion 
that  in  these  disjointed  sentences — more  dis- 


A    HOROSCOPE.  127 

jointed  than  they  are  set  down  here — he  was 
covertly  seeking  to  persuade  himself.  His 
study  of  this  girl's  nature  and  character  was, 
no  doubt,  the  result  of  long  observation  ;  and 
he  had  got  the  outlines  firm  enough ;  only  he 
seemed  anxious  to  convince  you — or  to  con- 
vince himself — that  there  could  be  nothing 
beyond  and  behind,  that  there  were  no  other 
contingencies  to  be  reckoned  with.  She  was 
heart  and  soul  an  artist.  She  had  with 
deliberation  and  foresight  chosen  her  way 
of  life.  Her  clear  intellect,  her  uncompro- 
mising quest  of  truth,  her  scorn  of  unreality, 
were  all  safeguards  against  the  illusions  which 
might  come  in  to  disturb  or  destroy  a  woman's 
existence.  He  had  forced  himself  to  mention 
the  possibility  of  her  marriage,  but  only  to 
dismiss  it  as  unworthy  of  consideration. 
Amelie  Dumaresq's  position  was  defined  ;  he 
knew  her,  and  could  answer  for  her  inmost 
thoughts  ;  her  future  he  and  she  had  planned 
together. 


128  WOLFENBERG. 

The  evening  waned,  and  still  these  women 
did  not  return.  The  vast  amphitheatre  of 
hills  grew  to  be  of  a  soft,  deep  rose-purple 
under  the  pale  lemon-hued  sky  ;  and  in  the 
cool,  grey  twilight  of  the  town  one  or  two 
golden  points  had  appeared  just  above  the 
darkening  sea.  What  had  come  over  them  ? 
Mrs.  Dumaresq  was  restless,  and  perturbed, 
and  fretful.  Not  that  she  was  apprehensive 
about  her  daughter's  safety,  but  that  it  was 
close  on  the  dinner-hour,  and  Amelie  would 
not  have  time  to  change  her  dress. 

"  Come,  let  us  go  ashore  and  discover  what 
has  happened,"  Wolfe nberg  said. 

But  even  as  he  spoke  the  steam-launch  was 
seen  to  come  round  the  point  of  the  distant 
breakwater ;  and  presently  we  could  make  out, 
even  in  this  gathering  dusk,  that  there  were 
light-hued  costumes  on  board.  Nay,  before 
the  boat  came  alongside,  it  looked  as  though 
these  people  had  armed  themselves  for  some 
Bataille    des    Fleurs   on    the    morrow,   such   a 


A    HOROSCOPE.  129 

profusion  of  bouquets  and  baskets  of  flowers 
had  they  amongst  them.  Nor  were  they 
without  abundant  escort ;  for,  besides  the 
Major,  they  appeared  to  have  picked  up  Paul 
Hitrovo  and  his  companion ;  and  the  three 
gentlemen  were  all  equally  zealous  in  handing 
and  carrying  parcels  and  packages,  while  the 
women-folk  managed  their  enormous  bouquets 
as  best  they  could. 

Amelie  Dumaresq  was  the  first  to  arrive  at 
the  top  of  the  gangway — breathless,  laughing, 
her  lips  parted,  her  black  eyes  bright  with 
excitement  and  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  Ernest,  how  lazy  of  you  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Why,  we  have  been  everywhere, 
and  seen  everything ! "  Then  she  turned  to 
her  neighbour,  who  was  the  young  Russian. 
"  Here,  Mr.  Hitrovo,  will  you  please  take  these 
flowers  down  to  the  saloon,  and  ask  a  steward 
to  get  some  water  for  them,  and  put  them  on 
our  table  ?     Oh,  thank  you  !  " 

She  took  from  him  the  parcels  he  had  been 

VOL.  I.  K 


130  WOLFENBERG. 

holding  for  her ;  and  the  dinner  bell  had 
already  begun  to  tinkle  in  the  forward  part 
of  the  ship  when  she  hurried  away  to  make 
some  hasty  alterations  in  her  attire. 


(      i3i      ) 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

"VIX   E    CONSPECTU    SICUL^E   TELLURIS." 

The  new  day  has  not  yet  come  ;  nevertheless 
we  seem  to  have  emerged  from  the  night — it 
lies  behind  us  low  and  sullen  along  the  west ; 
while  the  great  ship  labouring  onwards  through 
this  mysterious  twilight  has  over  its  foretop- 
mast  the  silver  crescent  of  the  moon,  as  if  we 
were  bearing  with  us,  into  the  East,  the  symbol 
of  the  East.  In  the  north  are  the  iEolian 
islands,  Volcano,  Lipari,  and  their  lonely  neigh- 
bours ;  but  they  also  are  dark  and  over- 
shadowed ;  Vulcan  and  his  Cyclopes  have  not 
yet  lit  their  forges  ;  from  those  distant 
conical  peaks  arises  no  wavering  tongue  of 
pink,  no  column  of  lurid  smoke.  But  all  the 
same  light  is  coming :  the  never-failing,  never- 


132  WOLFENBERG. 

familiar  wonders  of  the  dawn  are   near.     As 
one  regards  this  livid  and  slaty-black  sea,  here 
and  there  a  liquid  crest  is  touched  with  a  dull 
saffron  ;    ahead  of  us   the    dim    coast-line — a 
mere  film  of  land  along  the  horizon — gradually 
becomes    of    a   transparent    olive-green ;    and 
above  that  again  the  sky  is  a  glow  of  ruddy 
gold  that  is  rendered  all  the  more  intense  by 
one  long,  far- stretching  cloud  of  the  deepest 
and  softest  violet,  its  warm,  rich  tones  of  an  in- 
describable beauty.     The  over-arching  heavens 
are  now  of  a  lambent,  tremulous  silver-grey  : 
the  sickle  of  the  moon   still   reigns   placidly 
there.       Swiftly    and    silently    the    morning 
splendour  spreads  and  grows ;  the  great  violet 
cloud  has  turned  to  an  exquisite  rose-purple, 
with  fringes  of  crimson  fire  ;  then,  of  a  sudden, 
over  the  rim  of  the  land,  appears  the  blinding 
edge  of  the  sun  ;  a  shiver  of  light  seems  to 
spring  through  the  sleeping  world  ;  and  as  one 
turns  to  see  what  bewildering  miracle  has  been 
wrought,  behold  !  far  away  over  there  in  the 


"  VIX  E  CONS  PEC  TU  SICULM  TELLURIS"    133 

south  the   pale  snows  of  Etna  have  already- 
answered  to  the  flame. 

And  here,  up  at  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  a  group 

of  early  risers  have   clustered   together,  some 

idly  chattering,   others  gazing  abroad  on  the 

new  world  of  sea  and  sky  and  ever-approaching 

land.       Wolfenberg    stands    somewhat    apart, 

silent    and    alone,    apparently   plunged    in    a 

profound    reverie.      Amelie    Dumaresq,    with 

her  laughing  and  lustrous  black  eyes  full  of 

interest,  is  listening  to  the  tall  young  Russian, 

who,   in    his   turn,    seems    trying,    lazily    and 

smilingly,    to    amuse   her.      The    rotund    and 

roseate  Major  has  got  hold  of  a  plateful  of 

biscuits,    and    is    bustling   about    with    these, 

perhaps  unconsciously  selecting   the  prettiest 

of  the  young   women  for  his  favours.      But 

who  is  it  who  forms  the  principal,  the  most 

attractive  feature  of  this  miscellaneous  throng 

— who  but  our  shining- eyed,  and  peerless,  and 

radiant  Peggy  ?     As  usual,  Peggy  has  climbed 

to  a  commanding  post ;  her  outstretched  right 


134  WOLFENBERG. 

arm,  holding  on  to  the  foretopmast-stay,  reveals 
to  fine  advantage  her  slender  and  elegant 
figure ;  the  simple,  tight-fitting  grey  dress 
looks  well  against  the  pale  blue  of  the  sky ; 
she  has  no  covering  on  her  head,  so  that  the 
sunlight  makes  a  wonder  of  her  neatly-plaited, 
light-brown  hair.  And  as  for  her  face  ? — well, 
she  appears  to  be  entirely  happy  and  content 
with  herself,  as  if  she  were  ready  to  smile  if 
her  regard  met  any  one  ;  but  she  is  not  heeding 
those  around  her  ;  she  is  looking  away  across 
the  flashing  and  surging  waves  to  the  trans- 
parent line  of  coast.  Many  and  many  a  ship, 
in  all  ages  of  the  world,  has  sailed  these  well- 
known  waters,  but  never  one  of  them  with 
such  a  glorified  figure  at  the  prow. 

And  was  not  this  a  grand  and  notable  day 
for  the  Passionate  Poetess  ?  She  was  so 
breathlessly  excited,  so  busy  with  her  dog's- 
eared  translations  and  her  Lempriere,  that  she 
had  not  yet  found  time  to  pay  her  morning 
call   on   the   butcher,    to   fetch    her    beloved 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL/E  TELLURIS"     135 

Phaon.  For  were  not  these  now  receding 
peaks  the  mysterious  abode  of  the  Ruler  of  the 
Winds?  She  had  got  hold  of  the  hie  vasto 
rex,  JEolus  antra  passage  ;  and  as  she  marched 
up  and  down  the  deck,  we  could  hear  her 
repeating  to  herself  some  high-sounding  line — 

Luctantes  ventos,  tempestatesque  sonoras, 
or 

Illi  indignantes  magno  cum  murmure  montis, 

or  the  like.  And  was  she  not  following  in 
the  wake  of  her  favourite  Ulysses  ?  Ahead 
of  us  were  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and  Cape 
Pelorum,  and  the  famous  Straits  along  which 
every  hamlet  and  town  and  river  recalls 
some  old-world  legend  or  some  tragic  historical 
event.  At  the  same  time  it  was  not  all  joy 
for  Sappho.  The  discrepancies  she  found  in 
those  various  authors,  even  in  such  minor 
matters  as  spelling,  chafed  her  spirit ;  and 
her  indignant  protests,  accompanied  even  by 
a  little  show  of  ill-temper,  were  addressed 
indiscriminately  to  any  one  who  would  listen 


136  WOLFENBERG. 

— even  to  the  Major,  poor  man,  who  solemnly- 
assured  her  that  he  had  not  construed  a 
single  verse  of  Greek  or  Latin  since  he  left 
school. 

"  It's  their  horrible  inconsistencies  !  "  she 
exclaimed ;  and  at  times  she  appeared  almost 
ready  to  take  refuge  in  tears.  "  One  book 
tells  you  that  the  Cyclopes  lived  on  the 
coast  of  Libya,  and  another  says  the  west 
of  Sicily,  and  another  under  Mount  Etna. 
As  for  the  island  of  the  Sirens,  they  seem 
to  put  it  just  wherever  they  like ;  but  I 
suppose  it  really  must  have  been  over  by 
Cape  Pelorus,  since  Ulysses,  after  getting 
past  it,  came  immediately  on  Scylla  and 
Charubdis.  Scylla  and  Charybdis  ! "  she 
went  on,  bitterly,  for  here  was  another 
grievance.  "  Oh,  no,  not  at  all — not  at  all ! 
Skulle  and  Charubdis  !  Skulle !  what  is  the 
use  of  such  tomfoolery  !  And  Kirke,  and 
Kalupso,  and  the  Kuklopes !  And  I'd  like 
to  know  how  they  ever  got  Odysseus  changed 


"  VI X  E  CONSPECTU  SICULAL  TELLURIS?     137 

into  Ulysses ;  and  more  than  that,  when  they 
had  got  it  changed,  and  accepted  by  all  the 
world,  what  good  is  there  in  going  back, 
not  to  Odysseus,  but  to  Odusseus  ?  It  is 
such  preposterous  folly  !  " 

Yet  worse,  far  worse,  remained  behind : 
something  calculated  to  strike  dismay  into 
the  stoutest  heart.  For  at  this  moment  the 
Baby  came  up,  carrying  a  binocular  glass  in 
her  hand ;  and,  with  shy  good-nature,  she 
said 

"  Would  you  like  my  glass,  Miss  Penguin  ? 
They  say  that  rock  over  there  is  Scylla." 

"  Scylla  ? "  said  Sappho,  with  something 
of  a  start — for  indeed  the  tall  grey  rock  was 
visible  to  the  naked  eye.  "  That  Scylla  ? 
There  must  be  some  mistake !  For  in  the 
Odyssey  it  says  that  the  rock  reaches  to  the 
heavens,  and  has  perpetual  clouds  on  the  top 
of  it.     And— and  Charybdis  ?  " 

Instinctively  she  turned  to  look  at  '  the 
other   shore — perhaps  with  a  dreadful    doubt 


138  WOLFENBERG. 

possessing  her.  Well,  what  she  saw  was 
simply  this  :  a  breadth  of  calm  blue  sea, 
shimmering  in  the  sunlight,  with  the  slightest 
of  ripples ;  and  beyond  that  a  very  pleasant 
and  smiling  coast-line,  with  strips  of  yellow- 
grey  villages,  and  over  these  a  series  of 
vineyard- terraced  hills.  But  as  for  Scylla 
the  awful  monster  ? — and  divine  Charybdis 
sucking  in  black  water  thrice  a  day,  and 
sending  it  out  again,  and  defying  even  the 
dread  might  of  Poseidon  ?  Sappho  was 
silent :  she  would  not  confess  to  the  terrible 
fear  that  she  had  been  beguiled.  And  when 
one  pointed  out  to  her  that  in  stormy  weather 
the  narrow  entrance  into  these  Straits  of 
Messina  might  be  quite  dangerous  enough 
for  any  small  sailing  vessel,  she  still  remained 
silent.  And  then  she  went  away  to  ask  for 
Phaon. 

However,  any  doubts  about  the  literal 
trustworthiness  of  Homer  that  might  have 
clouded  her  mind  for  a  moment  would  seem 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL^E  TELLURIS"     139 

to  have  been  soon  forgotten  ;  for  some  little 
time  thereafter  Peggy  came  along  in  a  very 
secret  and  solemn  manner,  and  intimated 
that  she  had  a  matter  of  importance  to 
communicate. 

"  It's  a  poem,"  said  Peggy. 

"  What  about  ? " 

"  Ulysses  passing  the  island  of  the  Sirens. 
Oh,  I  assure  you  it  is  tremendous.  Do  you 
know  what  Sappho  herself  says  ? — she  says 
'  Fling  a  few  burning  words  into  the  air : 
they  are  more  than  all  the  philosophies : 
they  will  sound  in  the  hearts  of  men  through 
the  ages/  " 

"  Has  she  flung  them  ?  " 

"  I  have  them  in  my  pocket." 

"  Let  me  see  them  !  " 

But  here  Peggy  hesitates,  and  looks  round. 

"The  Baby  is  over  there,"  she  says,  with 
an  uneasy  glance,  "  and  she  always  insists 
that  it  is  very  wrong  to  have  secrets.  It  is 
undignified.       If    she   saw   me   handing   you 


Ho  WOLFENBERG. 

this  paper,  and  waiting  for  you  to  read  it, 
she  would  be  shocked.  That's  what  it  is 
to  have  a  severe  and  superior  being  for  a 
sister — even  though  she's  not  long  out  of 
school " 

"  Oh,  nonsense " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do  ;  I  will  get 
an  envelope,  and  enclose  the  poem,  and  leave 
it  for  you  in  the  Purser's  office :  then  you 
can  go  for  it  and  read  the  verses  at  your 
leisure." 

"  Sweet  simplicity — that  would  be  a  pretty 
stratagem  for  the  Baby  to  discover  !  What  ? 
— is  your  guilty  soul  so  sensitive  that  you 
cannot  take  a  bit  of  poetry  out  of  your  pocket 
and  show  it  in  open  daylight !  What  have 
you  been  doing  ?  Have  you  been  bewildering 
the  Major?" 

"Oh,  let  the  Major  alone — as  I  do ! "  she 
says.  "  Suppose  we  go  and  sit  down  by  the 
wheel-box:  then  you  need  not  be  interrupted." 

And  thus  it  is  that  one  becomes  possessed, 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  S/CULsE  TELLURIS."     \\\ 

temporarily,  of  the  following  burning  words 
— which  are  hereby  flung  into  the  air. 
Whether  they  will  sound  through  the  ages 
it  is  obviously  not  for  the  present  transitory 
race  of  men  to  determine/ — 

Brothers,  I  hear  the  Siren  sing, 

Where  by  Pelorus  the  white  waves  spring  : 

My  pulses  raven,  my  senses  swirl  — 

0  could  I  clutch  thee,  goddess  or  girl  ! 

Unbind  me,  ye  fools,  that  made  me  fast, 
Ere  with  my  sinews  I  break  the  mast  ! 
Astarte,  Astarte,  grant  me  breath  ! 
Astarte,  Astarte,  help  or  death  ! 

Slaves  and  dotards,  why  stand  ye  there  t 
The  music  swims  through  the  shivering  air  : 
Curses  vpon  ye,  unbind  these  arms/ 
What  knoiv  ye  of  love' s  fierce  hurts  and  harms  ! 

Pale  Penelope,  fare  you  well — 

We  meet  no  more  upon  this  side  Hell : 

Farewell  to  the  shining  Cyclades — 

1  end  my  life  in  the  Sirens'  seas. 

Nay,  loose  me,  ye  fools,  that  bound  me  fast, 
Ere  with  my  sinews  I  break  the  mast ! 
Astarte,  Astarte,  grant  me  breath  ! — 
Astarte,  Astarte,  love  or  death  ! 

"Well?"  says  Peggy. 


i42  WOLFENBERG. 

"  Her  geography  seems  a  little  shaky  :  does 
she  imagine  that  Ithaca  is  among  the  shining 
Cyclades  ? " 

"Oh,  how  mean  !  Now  that  is  just  like  a 
critic !  You  take  exception  to  a  quite  un- 
important detail,  and  miss  all  the  fiery  spirit 
of  the  piece  itself !  " 

"  There  is  plenty  of  fiery  spirit,  no  doubt : 
double-distilled  fusel-oil  is  a  fool  to  it.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  the  trash  ? " 

"Yes,  I  always  did  think  men  were  more 
envious  than  women,"  Peggy  says,  rather 
sadly,  as  she  takes  the  shred  of  MS.,  and 
folds  it  up,  and  returns  it  to  her  pocket. 
"  Because  you  can't  do  a  certain  thing  yourself 
you  needn't  belittle  it  when  it  is  done  by  some 
one  else.  And,  after  all,  she  is  only  acting  up 
to  her  own  contention — that  there  should  be 
more  passion  in  modern  poetry.  .  .  .  Well, 
now,  I  can  get  away  without  the  Baby 
suspecting  any  secret  confabulation.  Good- 
bye for  the  present." 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL/E  TELLURIS."     143 

This  was  a  pleasant  morning  we  had  for  our 
leisurely  sail  along  the  eastern  coast  of  Sicily  : 
a  Ehine-looking  country,  with  ruddy-grey  hills 
sprinkled  with  green  ;  here  and  there  a  yellow- 
white  village  extending  along  the  shore  ;  an 
occasional  ruined  tower  perched  high  on  a 
pinnacle  of  rock,  overlooking  the  glassy  water. 
Then  as  we  got  further  to  the  south  the  vast 
domain  of  Etna  began  to  declare  itself;  the 
great  mountain  visible  from  sea-base  to  summit ; 
on  the  lower  slopes  innumerable  houses  like 
grains  of  sand  shining  among  the  dark  foliage 
of  the  orange  groves  ;  the  higher  slopes  ruddy 
and  scarred  ;  the  far-receding  cone  sprinkled 
with  snow.  Almost  too  majestic  a  background, 
perhaps,  for  the  trivial  human  interests  that 
were  being  interwoven  on  board  this  ship  ? 
Yet  these  had  to  be  considered  ;  in  fact,  they 
were  thrust  upon  us. 

For,  first  of  all,  Mrs.  Dumaresq,  seiziug  a 
favourable  opportunity,  came  and  sat  down  by 
the    side    of   our   Mrs.    Threepenny-bit;    and 


U4  WOLFENBERG. 

after  a  little  anxious  beating  about  the  bush, 
began  to  speak  about  M.  Paul  Hitrovo,  and 
to  ask  us  what  we  knew  of  him.  Well,  we 
knew  nothing  of  him,  or  next  to  nothing. 
But  this  elderly  woman,  with  the  sallow  face, 
sad  eyes,  and  braided  silver- white  hair,  seemed 
concerned  and  perturbed  ;  she  said  that  every 
one  must  have  observed  the  marked  attention 
the  young  Russian  was  now  paying  to  her 
daughter  ;  and  she  lamented  that  Amelie  was 
so  wilful  and  self-confident  that  it  was  of  no 
use  to  speak  to  her  or  to  caution  her. 

"  The  only  one  she  might  heed  would  be 
Mr.  Wolfenberg,"  said  the  distressed  mother. 
"  But  how  is  it  possible  to  speak  to  him  about 
so  delicate  a  matter  ?  Of  course  he  has  noticed. 
I  have  seen  him  look  at  them.  But  then  he 
is  very  proud  ;  he  would  not  claim  anything 
on  account  of  the  great  friendship  that  has 
existed  for  so  long  between  Amelie  and  himself ; 
he  would  rather  stand  aside,  and  leave  her  to 
do  as  she  pleases.     Of  course  I  say  nothing 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICULsE  TELLURIS?    145 

against  Mr.  Hitrovo,  for  I  know  nothing  ;  and 
— and  they  say  he  is  very  well  connected  ;  but 
it  would  be  dreadful  if  Amelie  were  to  get 
herself  seriously  entangled,  and  then  we  were 
to  find  out  something  against  him.  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  Ernest  "Wolfenberg  has 
always  advised  us  ;  but  in  this  matter, 
somehow,  I  cannot  go  to  him — I  cannot. 
And  I  dare  not  warn  Amelie ;  she  would 
demand  to  know  what  ground  I  have  for  any 
suspicions.     And  I  have  none." 

"  Supposing,"  one  ventures  to  suggest  to 
her,  "  that  when  we  get  to  Constantinople 
some  one  could  be  found  who  might  good- 
naturedly  make  inquiries  at  the  Russian 
Embassy,  would  you  consider  that  indis- 
creet ? " 

"  But  I  am  an  American ;  and  I  do  not 
know  that  there  is  an  American  Minister  at 
Constantinople,"  she  said. 

"  In  any  case  it  might  be  managed  through 
the  British  Embassy,  with  a  little  diplomacy." 

VOL.  I.  L 


146  WOLFENBERG. 

"  I  am  so  unwilling  to  do  anything  without 
consulting  Mr.  Wolfenberg,"  said  this  poor 
mother,  who  seemed  to  feel  her  own  helpless- 
ness acutely.  "  And  yet,  as  I  say,  it  is  im- 
possible to  speak  to  him.  And  if  Amelie  knew 
that  I  have  even  mentioned  such  a  matter  to 
any  one,  she  would  be  most  indignant  and 
angry.  She  would  say  I  was  compromising 
her — insulting  her.  Then  she  is  so  headstrong. 
Most  likely  any  interference  would  only  drive 
her  in  the  opposite  direction.  Yet  who  can 
avoid  remarking  it  ?  There  is  not  a  word  now 
about  her  painting.  She  seems  to  have  for- 
gotten entirely  what  she  came  away  for. 
Formerly,  Mr.  Wolfenberg  and  she  had  sub- 
jects to  speak  of  all  clay  long  ;  he  was  always 
showing  her  something,  teaching  her  something ; 
and  her  great  ambition  when  she  came  away 
on  this  vessel  was  to  get  on  with  oil-colours 
as  a  change  from  the  water.  But  now  there 
is  not  a  syllable  about  that.  The  Kussia.n 
follows  her  like  her  shadow ;  and  I  think  at 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL/E  TELLURIS."     147 

the  same  time  he  tantalises  her  with  a  kind  of 
indifference  that  she  is  not  used  to.  He  rather 
patronises  her  in  that  smiling  way  of  his,  and 
almost  expects  her  to  amuse  him.  Amelie 
does  not  understand  it ;  it  piques  her  and 
pleases  her  ;  it  is  a  new  sensation.  So  you 
think  you  may  find  out  something  about  him 
at  Constantinople  ? " 

"  It  is  at  least  possible." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you  !  "  she  said,  very, 
gratefully — and  she  rose  to  go  away,  as  if 
fearing  that  the  subject  of  this  conversation 
might  be  guessed  at  by  some  passer-by. 
"  And  not  a  word  to  Mr.  Wolfenberg,  please  t  " 
she  added,  in  an  earnest  undertone.  "  It 
would  only  pain  him  unnecessarily,  and  he 
is  so  sensitive,  especially  where  Amelie  is 
concerned.  Well,  I  had  hoped  for  other  things 
from  this  voyage."  And  the  poor  woman  left 
with  a  sigh — stealing  away  guiltily,  as  it  were  ; 
though  it  was  only  a  nervous  apprehension  and 
anxiety  about  her  daughter's  happiness  that 


148  WOLFENBERG. 

had  driven  her  to  this  timid  confession  and 
appeal. 

Our  next  experience  on  this  eventful  morn- 
ing was   of   a   more   cheerful   cast.     We    dis- 
covered  that  we  had  got  a  stranger  on  board. 
Now,  when  we  left  Tilbury  the  great  majority 
of  the  Orotanians  were  entirely  unacquainted 
with  each  other ;  but  this  constant  association, 
day  after  day,  had  so  familiarised  us  with  each 
other's  appearance  that  the  sudden  advent  of 
an  unknown  person  seemed  a  startling  thing. 
Not   that    there    was    anything    alarming    or 
forbidding     about    the     newcomer ;     on     the 
contrary,    his    air    and    manner    were    most 
prepossessing ;    and  if  his  costume  struck  us 
as    strange — it    was    clearly  a  land-travelling 
costume — perhaps    that    was    merely    because 
he  had  not  yet  had  time  to  open  his  sea-kit. 
He  was   a   young   fellow  of  about   two-and- 
twenty,    quite    boyish    in     look,    fresh-com- 
plexioned,    with   hardly   the   semblance   of  a 
moustache,   and   with    such    an   expression   of 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL.E  TELLURIS."     149 

modest  ingenuousness  as  at  once  bespoke 
favour.  We  first  noticed  him  at  breakfast- 
time.  Now  on  board  the  Orotania  it  was 
only  at  dinner  that  fixed  places  were  kept ; 
at  breakfast  and  lunch  any  one  coming  into 
the  saloon  took  any  seat  that  happened  to  be 
vacant,  just  as  is  done  at  a  club.  "When  this 
English-looking  lad  appeared  at  the  door  of 
the  saloon,  he  glanced  round  with  quite  a 
pretty  shyness.  There  did  chance  to  be  one 
vacant  chair  at  our  table ;  and  it  was  near 
him  ;  he  made  a  faltering  step  towards  it — 
hesitated — seemed  to  be  overcome  with  diffi- 
dence and  embarrassment — and  then  went  on 
in  vague  quest  of  an  empty  corner.  The  odd 
thing  was  that  this  momentary  hesitation  on 
his  part  seemed  to  have  had  an  instant  and 
curious  effect  on  the  Baby — our  serious  and 
solemn-eyed  and  self-possessed  Baby — who 
was  now  blushing  furiously ;  she  even  looked 
frightened.  Bat  supposing  he  had  actually 
sat  down  at  the  table,  what  cataclysm  could 


150  WOLFENBERG. 

possibly  have  ensued  ?    On  board  our  excellent 
Orotania  ham  and  eggs  are  free  to  all :    to 
each  man  his  share,  no  one  grudging.      Nor 
could   the   Baby   have    complained   of    being 
taken  unawares  by  a  stranger ;  for  as  to  the 
smallest  details  of  her  toilet  she  was  always 
and  invariably  diligent  and  scrupulous  at  the 
earliest  hour  ;  on  this  particular  morning,  long 
before  we  had  come  to  terrible  Scylla  and  the 
divine  Charybdis,  she  had  come  up   on   deck 
dressed  as  if  for  an  afternoon  drive. 
-    Thereafter,   as  we  sailed  along  the  Sicilian 
shores,  the  modest  youth  rather  kept  himself 
out  of  the  way,  though  his  '  landward '  costume 
made  him  more  or  less  conspicuous.     He  did 
not  venture  to  speak  to  any  of  the  passengers. 
Nor  did  he  seem  to  care  much  about  the  coast 
we  were  passing ;    though  surely  such  names 
as    Taormina,    Aci     Eeale,    Catania,    Mount 
Hybla,  and  Megara  were  calculated  to  awaken 
visions   and  dreams.     And   at  length   one   or 
two  of  our  more   curious  brethren  made  bold 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICULJE  TELLURIS"    151 

to  go  to  the  Purser,  to  demand  information 
about  the  mysterious  newcomer.  His  name  ? 
That,  at  least,  "could  be  ascertained — Julian 
Verrinder.  What  ? — of  the  Verrinders  of 
Devon  ?  Mr.  Purser  was  unable  to  say :  all 
he  knew  was  that  the  young  man  had  tele- 
graphed from  Naples  to  the  London  Office  of 
the  Company  to  see  if  he  could  have  a  cabin, 
and  that  he  came  on  board  the  previous 
evening,  at  Palermo.  What  further  ?  Why, 
nothing.  Moreover,  the  young  man,  in  hold- 
ing aloof,  kept  away  forward  by  the  engines, 
walking  up  and  down  there,  and  seemingly 
not  disposed  to  enter  into  conversation  with 
any  one.  It  is  true  that  once  or  twice,  when 
our  attention  happened  to  be  withdrawn  from 
that  absorbingly  interesting  coast-line,  it 
seemed  to  one  of  us  that  the  young  stranger 
sometimes  threw  a  furtive  and  timid  glance 
in  our  direction ;  but  that  may  have  been 
mere  fancy ;  anyway,  there  was  enough  now 
ahead  of  us  to  occupy  our  eyes. 


152  WOLFENBERG. 

For  here  was  a  long  spur  of  land  coming 
out  into  the  blue  sea,  covered  with  a  white, 
flat-roofed,  Eastern-looking  town,  and  ending 
in  a  battleniented  fort.  This  was  Syracuse  ; 
rather,  this  was  Ortygia ;  and  the  sheet  of 
smooth  green  water  opening  oat  before  us 
was  the  Great  Harbour  in  which  Athens  met 
her  doom.  Now,  callous  as  any  one  may  be 
about  the  woes  of  Hecuba,  it  is  surely  im- 
possible to  sail  into  the  Bay  of  Syracuse 
without  recalling,  with  actual  and  vivid 
compassion  and  pity,  the  tremendous  tragedy 
that  was  here  enacted.  Ordinary  battlefields 
are  rarely  impressive — are  rarely  intelligible. 
Their  distinctive  features  are  soon  obliterated. 
The  present  writer,  at  all  events,  has  never 
been  able  to  make  even  a  guess  at  what  has 
happened  on  such  and  such  a  modern  battle- 
field, unless,  indeed,  it  chanced  that  certain 
heaps  of  dead  bodies  lying  about,  of  men 
and  horses,  appeared  to  show  where  a  stand 
had  been  made  against  a  charge  of  cavalry. 


"  VI X  E  CONSPECTU  SICULjE  TELLURIS?     153 

But  in  the  case  of  Syracuse  and  its  wide 
harbour,  all  the  necessary  points  are  easy  of 
identification:  nay,  it  seems  as  if  it  might 
have  been  only  the  other  day  that  Etna, 
looking  down  from  the  north,  beheld  the  over- 
whelming rout  and  slaughter  of  the  environed 
Greeks,  and  heard  the  wild  weeping  and 
piteous  exclamations  of  their  companions 
along  the  shore,  who  knew  that  for  them  also 
remained  nothing  but  the  agony  of  a  hopeless 
flight,  and  capture,  and  death.  Yonder,  at 
the  other  extremity  of  the  horseshoe  bay, 
Cape  Plemmyrium  ;  here,  at  this  nearer  point, 
Ortygia  ;  stretching  away  upward,  the  heights 
of  Epipobe,  where,  on  that  ghostly  moonlight 
night,  Demosthenes  had  almost  recovered  the 
desperate  fortunes  of  his  countrymen,  when 
the  very  Gods  seemed  to  intervene  to  drive 
them  back  to  destruction  ;  and  finally,  in  front 
of  us,  between  us  and  the  shore,  the  placid 
sheet  of  shining  green  water — the  scene  of  a 
still  more  awful  fig;ht — the  last  effort  of  the 


154  WOLFENBERG. 

Athenian  ships  to  break  out  of  the  chained 
and  stockaded  bay — the  death-struggle  that 
ended  in  the  most  tragic  defeat,  and  the  most 
cruel  tale  of  prolonged  and  merciless  sufferiDg, 
known  to  history.  The  tears  of  Hecuba  were 
shed  loug  ago,  and  do  not  much  concern  us 
now  ;  but  not  even  the  most  trivial  and  care- 
less of  travellers  can  sail  into  the  harbour  of 
Syracuse  without  being  in  a  measure  overawed 
by  the  recollection  of  the  stupendous  over- 
throwr  of  the  great  Athenian  armaments.  That 
which  broke  the  power  of  Athens  and  ulti- 
mately wrought  her  ruin  cannot  easily  be 
forgotten  by  the  civilised  world. 

But  all  the  same  we  were  glad  to  find  our 
good,  dear,  impetuous  Sappho  in  a  most  eager 
and  buoyant  humour.  She  had  got  upon  the 
track  of  Ulysses  at  last ;  indeed,  she  had 
pinned  him  into  a  corner ;  there  was  no 
further  escape  for  him  now.  Hitherto  the 
wanderings  of  the  much-enduring  hero  had 
caused  her  infinite  perplexity,  nay,  had  even 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL/E  TELLURIS."     155 

ruffled  her  temper  in  a  way  we  were  pained 
to  witness ;  while  the  glosses  and  guesses  of 
translators  had  only  driven  her  to  still  direr 
distraction.  But  now  she  had  narrowed  the 
issues  to  a  point ;  she  had  Ulysses  by  the 
throat,  as  it  were. 

"Look  at  this,"  said  she,  triumphantly,  as 
she  produced  one  of  those  volumes  of  Bohn  that 
get  so  rapidly  shabby  on  board  ship.  "  When 
Ulysses  escapes  from  Scylla  and  Charybdis, 
he  sails  along  the  coast  of  the  island  until 
his  companions  persuade  him  to  land ;  and 
then  he  says,  '  "We  stationed  the  well-made 
ship  in  the  hollow  port,  near  the  sweet  water.' 
Xow,  that  must  have  been  Syracuse — this 
very  bay  ;  and  as  for  the  sweet  water,  ob- 
viously it  is  the  Fountain  of  Arethusa,  over 
there  behind  the  trees.  Could  anything  be 
more  accurate,  more  interesting  ?  Isn't  it 
strange  that  Homer  should  have  known 
about  that  fountain  of  sweet  water  ?  "  Indeed, 
she    was    overjoyed    by    this    discovery ;    and 


1 56  WOLFENBERG. 

went  about  proclaiming  it ;  and  we  were  quite 
pleased  to  see  the  venerable  goddess  so  de- 
lighted. 

But  the  mention  of  a  fountain  had  fallen 
on  Amelie  Dumaresq's  ear.  She,  like  the  rest 
of  us,  was  in  the  forward  part  of  the  vessel, 
looking  at  those  yellow  houses  and  the  green 
palms  and  oleanders,  and  waiting  for  the  roar 
of  the  anchor.  And  she  had  been  talking 
to  Paul  Hitrovo.  But  on  hearing  something 
said  about  a  fountain,  she  turned  suddenly 
to  Wolfenberg,  who  was  standing  by,  a  little 
way  apart. 

"  Ernest,"  said  she,  in  accents  of  gay  re- 
proach, as  she  went  over  to  him,  "  it  has  just 
occurred  to  me :  why  have  you  told  me 
nothing  further  about  your  picture  ?  Have 
you  forgotten  it  %  Have  you  abandoned  it  ? 
All  these  days,  and  not  a  word !  You  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  we  are  to  have  no 
Fountain  of  Callirrhoe  % " 

The  man  with  the  pale,  worn  face,  and  the 


"  VIX  E  CONSPECTU  SICUL&  TELLURIS."    157 

pensive  and  absent  eyes,  flushed  a  little : 
perhaps  he  did  not  care  to  have  his  work 
spoken  of  before  strangers. 

"  These  last  few  days  ? — I  have  not  been 
thinking  of  it,"  he  made  answer,  in  the  gentle 
tone  he  invariably  adopted  towards  her ;  but 
at  the  same  time  he  seemed  rather  to  move 
away  somewhat ;  and  she,  after  a  moment's 
surprise,  returned  to  her  Russian  friend. 


i58  JVOLFEXBERG. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    EAR    OF    DIONYSIUS. 

Of  a  sudden  all  this  was  changed.  Just  as 
we  were  a,bout  to  set  out  for  the  shore,  Amelie 
Dumaresq  was  again  consigned  to  our  care  ; 
and  as  that  necessitated  the  choice  of  a  fourth 
to  make  up  our  driving-party,  Mrs.  Three- 
penny-bit promptly  invited  Wolfenberg  to 
accompany  us :  she  would  have  no  Russian 
hanging  about,  with  dangerous  complications 
in  the  background.  And  so  far  from  Amelie 
Dumaresq  resenting  this  arrangement,  she 
seemed  to  welcome  it  ;  and  no  sooner  had  we 
landed  from  the  steam-launch,  and  got  our- 
selves into  the  ramshackle  vehicle  that  was 
to  drive  us  round  the  environs  of  Syracuse, 
than    it    became    obvious    she    was    bent    on 


THE  EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  159 

pleasing  and  captivating  all  her  companions, 
but  especially  Ernest  Wolfenberg.  Perhaps 
she  was  secretly  conscious  that  she  had  of 
late  neglected  him ;  perhaps  she  had  noticed 
him  standing  about  the  deck  very  much  by 
himself;  perhaps  she  had  remarked  that  his 
stern,  grave  face  appeared  to  be  graver,  his 
dreamy  eyes  more  absent  and  wistful  than 
was  their  wont.  At  all  events,  it  looked  as 
though  she  was  now  determined  to  make 
ample  atonement.  As  we  drove  away  from 
this  sweltering  harbour  she  was  in  the  gayest 
and  friendliest  of  good-humours.  Her  own 
content  and  gladness  seemed  to  radiate  from 
her ;  the  clear  Sicilian  atmosphere  lent  ani- 
mation to  the  pale  olive  hue  of  her  satin -soft 
cheek ;  her  liquid  black  eyes  (as  black  as 
her  magnificent  blue-black  hair)  danced  in 
audacious  merriment ;  when  that  rosebud 
of  a  mouth  smiled,  even  in  wicked  satire,  it 
was  difficult  to  deny  sympathetic  acquiescence. 
Moreover,    she    was   merciful    to   us   on   this 


160  WOLFENBERG. 

occasion.  She  did  not  frighten  us  out  of 
our  wits  with  startling  paradoxes  or  ruthless 
iconoclasm.  For  her,  she  was  quite  moder- 
ately wilful,  and  petulant,  and  self-assertive. 
And  when  she  spoke  to  Wolfenberg  it  was 
with  a  gentleness,  and  consideration,  and 
even  a  subtle  and  insidious  flattery  that 
entirely  merited  approval. 

And  as  for  him  ?  Well,  it  was  in  its  way 
pathetic  to  see  this  man — so  immeasurably  her 
superior  in  intellectual  and  artistic  endow- 
ments ;  so  immeasurably  her  superior,  also, 
in  qualities  of  character  —  it  was  almost 
pathetic  to  see  how  grateful  he  was  to  her 
for  this  kindness  and  attention  to  him.  Not 
that  he  betrayed  his  gratitude  in  any  senti- 
mental fashion ;  on  the  contrary,  he  kept 
laughing  at  her  perversities  and  vagaries, 
and  kept  interposing  here  and  vthere  to  make 
little  explanations  or  apologies  for  her.  Some- 
times, indeed,  a  certain  callousness  on  her 
part  appeared  to  grate  against  his  finer  sense  ; 


THE  EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  161 

but  all  the  same  he  would  defend  her,  or 
perhaps  remonstrate  with  her  in  the  most 
delicate  fashion.  For  example,  she  was  mak- 
ing merry,  making  rather  maliciously  merry, 
over  our  good,  dear  Sappho — over  her  appear- 
ance, her  dress,  her  pug,  her  passionate  poetry, 
her  Lempriere  erudition,  and  what  not ;  and 
she  went  on  to  declare  that  on  this  very 
morning  she  had  heard  Miss  Penguin  express 
the  wish  that  she  might  get  back  from  the 
fort  of  Eury'alus  in  time  to  take  a  boat 
and  go  up  the  An'apus  in  order  to  get  some 
leaves  of  the  pap'yrus.  All  through  this 
Wolfenberg  had  looked  rather  uncomfortable. 
For  if  a  woman  has  sandy  hair,  how  can  she 
help  it?  And  a  heavy  and  lethargic  face 
may  accompany  a  brilliant  and  penetrative 
mind.  A  dowdy  dress  does  not  necessarily 
indicate  a  cruel  or  envious  disposition.  As 
for  errors  in  accentuation — 

"Don't  you  think,  Amelie,"  said  Wolfenberg 
in  his   timidly  suggestive  way,  "  that  where 

VOL.  I.  M 


162  WOLFENBERG. 

there  is  no  pretence,  the  blunders  of  ignorance 
are  very  venial  things  ? — don't  you  think 
they  rather  call  for  sympathy  and  silence  ? 
Eury'alus  is  a  quite  natural  mistake." 

"Look  here,  Ernest,"  said  she,  abruptly 
breaking  away  from  the  subject,  for  she  did 
not  like  being  reproved,  even  by  him,  "  why 
don't  you  paint  a  portrait  of  Lady  Cameron  ? 
— she  is  the  beauty  of  the  ship." 

"  Why  don't  you  do  it  yourself,  Amelie  ?  " 
he  suggested. 

"  Oh,  I  ? "  she  said  with  a  frank  laugh. 
"I  brutalise  everything  I  touch.  You  would 
make  a  dream  of  it.  This  morning,  at  sunrise, 
when  we  were  coming  near  to  the  Straits  of 
Messina,  did  you  notice  her  up  at  the  bow 
— perched  away  above  the  rest  of  us  as  usual ; 
and  when  the  light  came  over  from  the  east, 
her  face  seemed  to  me  quite  mystically 
beautiful.  It  was  a  vision ;  it  was  something 
for  you,  Ernest,  I  tell  you.  Of  course  that 
is  a  trick  of  hers,  getting  up  high  :  she  knows 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  163 

she  has  a  fine  figure.  And  swinging  her 
Tarn  o'  Shanter  in  her  hand  is  another;  she 
likes  to  be  bare-headed,  because  her  hair 
shows  well  in  the  sunlight.  But  I  am  not 
jealous ;  I  don't  bear  malice  ;  I  love  beautiful 
things,  whether  they  are  alive  or  merely 
marble.  Only,  what  I  say  is,  you  ought 
not  to  lose  the  opportunity.  If  you  don't 
wish  to  paint  her  portrait,  at  least  make 
studies  of  her  head :  you  will  rarely  meet 
with  such  a  model.  Why,  you  have  not 
done  a  stroke  of  work  since  you  left  England!" 

"  Have  you  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  smile. 

"  You  must  not  talk  like  that,"  said  she, 
a  little  proudly.  "Your  work  and  mine  are 
not  quite  on  the  same  plane — no,  not  quite  ! 
My  manufacture  I  can  turn  out  at  any 
moment ;  and  if  I  have  been  idle,  it  has 
been  because  there  was  too  much  to  look  at, 
too  much  to  interest.  But  I  should  not 
have  expostulated  with  you,  Ernest.  I 
know  how  your  work   comes   to   you   better 


164  WOLFENBERG. 

than  you  do  yourself.  It  is  exactly  what 
Shelley  says  about  poetry :  '  Poetry  is  the 
record  of  the  best  and  happiest  moments  of 
the  best  and  happiest  minds '  .  .  .  '  evanescent 
visitations  of  thought  and  feeling  .  .  . 
*  arising  unforeseen  and  departing  unbidden.' 
Your  work  is  inspiration ;  my  daubs  are 
mechanical " 

"  Amelie  !  "  said  he — but  whether  he  was 
protesting  against  her  skilful  flattery  or  against 
her  self-depreciation  we  could  not  quite  make 
out. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  I  don't  know?"  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  tell  you  I  understand  how 
your  work  comes  to  you ;  it  is  a  sudden 
fancy,  and  if  you  do  not  seize  it  and  hold 
it,  it  is  off  again,  and  you  care  no  more 
about  it.  Ernest,  have  you  let  the  Fountain 
of  Callirrhoe  slip  away  like  that  ? " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  he  said,  rather  uneasily. 
"  How  can  one  tell  ?  It  was,  as  you  say,  a 
passing  fancy;   and  when  one  is  thinking  of 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  165 

other  tilings  one  forgets."  He  shifted  the 
subject :  he  turned  to  our  Mrs.  Threepenny- 
bit  (who  would  have  been  quite  content  to 
hear  those  two  go  on  talking,  with  her  own 
speculations  making  an  inward  commentary). 
"Do  you  notice  how  delicious  a  colour  green 
is,  after  we  have  come  through  long  days 
of  blinding  blue  and  silver  ? "  (For  this 
dusty  roadway  we  were  driving  along  was 
bordered  by  an  abundance  of  fresh  vegetation 
— bananas,  lemons,  pomegranates,  the  last 
showing  their  waxen  fruit  taking  a  tinge  of 
crimson  on  their  sunward  side).  "It  is  a 
kind  of  feast  for  the  eyes:  I  did  not  know 
one's  sight  had  grown  so  hungry.  Yet  blue 
and  silver — Mediterranean  blue  and  brilliant 
sunlight — are  welcome  enough  at  the  time." 

She  did  not  answer  him;  for  at  this  moment 
the  driver  drew  up  in  front  of  a  gate  ;  and 
we  were  expected  to  descend.  We  discovered 
that  this  was  the  entrance  to  the  waste  land 
surrounding  the  ruins  of  the   Eoman  Amphi- 


166  WOLFENBERG. 

theatre ;  and  here  we  found  one  or  two  of 
our  excellent  Orotanians  wandering  about, 
picking  up  flowers,  or  gazing  down  at  the 
remains  of  the  ancient  building  and  its 
adjuncts — the  terraced  stone  seats,  the 
alligator  tanks,  the  massive  cages  for  the 
wild  beasts,  all  of  which  seemed  as  though 
they  had  been  used  but  yesterday,  so  perfect 
were  they.  And  this  was  not  a  gloomy 
spectacle  like  the  Coliseum  at  Eome ;  this 
was  set  amid  fair  lemon  groves  and  verdant 
vineyards,  all  smiling  in  the  warm  afternoon 
sun. 

Paul  Hitrovo  was  here,  along  with  his 
Monreale  friend.  He  observed  Miss  Duma- 
resq  come  into  these  grounds,  but  made  no 
motion  of  approach  ;  she  also  threw  a  glance 
— one  might  almost  say  a  furtive  glance — 
in  his  direction,  but  affected  to  be  entirely 
absorbed  in  conversation  with  her  companion. 
Indeed,  she  was  arm-in-arm  with  Mrs.  Three- 
penny-bit ;    and    was   very   affectionate ;    and 


THE   EAR   OF  DIONYSIUS.  167 

was  apologising  for  having  taken  the  place 
of  Lady  Cameron  on  these  our  landward 
excursions.  And  when  we  came  away  again 
she  still  clung  in  this  familiar  fashion  to 
her  chaperon,  and  had  no  eyes  for  any  one 
else,  save  when  she  turned  to  address  a 
friendly  word  to  Wolfenberg  from  time  to 
time ;  and  in  this  manner,  having  ordered 
the  carriage  to  follow,  we  went  forward  on 
foot  towards  our  next  objective  point — the 
so-called  Ear  of  Dionysius. 

We  left  the  road,  and  went  along  a  deep- 
descending  wooded  dell ;  we  found  in  front 
of  us  a  lofty  mass  of  rock,  thick-hanging 
with  ivy  ;  we  entered  by  a  wooden  door  in 
a  low  stone  wall ;  and  then  the  mysterious 
twilight  told  us  we  were  in  a  vast  cave,  the 
further  recesses  of  which,  as  well  as  the  vault 
overhead,  were  invisible  in  the  impenetrable 
gloom.  And  what  was  this  strange  "  swish  ! 
— swish  ! "  we  heard  all  around,  and  above, 
and  far   beyond  ? — what   but   our  own   foot- 


168  WOLFENBERG. 

steps  !  We  discovered  that  the  faintest  sound 
we  could  make — the  light  snapping  of  one's 
fingers,  the  rustling  of  a  piece  of  paper — 
was  carried  away  from  us,  and  repeated  again 
and  again  in  the  distant  and  obscure  un- 
known ;  while  the  door  behind  us,  when  it 
was  slammed  to  by  the  military  custodian, 
sent  thundering  reverberations  that  seemed 
to  plunge  howling  and  rolling  into  the  very 
bowels  of  the  earth.  And  who  were  these 
who  now  approached  us,  coming  out  of  the 
opaque  darkness  into  the  trembling,  uncertain 
light  ?  The  roseate  and  beaming  Major — our 
gracious  and  smiling  Lady  of  Inverfask — the 
tall,  grave,  goddess-eyed  Baby :  it  was  a 
welcome  meeting. 

"  This  place  seems  full  of  ghosts,"  said 
Peggy,  in  an  awe-stricken  way.  "  If  you 
speak  to  any  one,  they  whisper  all  round  you." 

"  Gad,"  said  the  Major,  "  I  should  not  like 
to  have  been  one  of  the  prisoners  shut  up  here 
by  that  old  tyrant.     Precious  little  sleep  for 


THE   EAR   OF  DIONYSIUS.  169 

them,  I  should  think.  Now  let  us  go  out- 
side and  get  away  up  to  the  gallery  where 
he  used  to  sit  and  listen  and  discover  their 
secrets." 

But  we  late- comers  did  not  mean  to  lose  so 
invaluable  a  guide  ;  for  the  Major  had  been  in 
Sicily  and  in  Syracuse  oftentimes  before  ;  so 
we  attached  our  party  to  his,  and  together 
we  passed  out  into  the  warmer  air.  On  our 
way  up  to  the  road  again,  Wolfenberg 
gathered  a  few  fronds  of  maidenhair  fern, 
and  offered  them  to  Amelie  Dumaresq.  She 
accepted  them,  and  looked  pleased.  The  old 
comradeship  seemed  to  be  re-established 
between  those  two. 

Now,  to  reach  the  little  gallery  and 
chamber  which  legend  maintains  Dionysius 
had  constructed  so  that,  by  the  curious 
acoustic  properties  of  this  immense  cavern, 
he  might  overhear  his  prisoners  talking,  you 
have  to  climb  away  up  to  the  top  of  the 
Greek    Theatre — an    imposing    ruin,    of    far 


170  WOLFENBERG. 

greater    extent     than     the     Koman     Amphi- 
theatre.     And   when   we   came    in    sight   of 
that  far-stretching,  far-rising,  yellow-grey  pile 
of  horse-shoe  terraced  stone  seats,  about  the 
first  thing  we  noticed  was  two  figures  making 
for  the  summit.     Very  small  they  looked  in 
that  great  space  ;  but  by  their  white  costumes 
and    puggarees   we    knew    them   to   be    Oro- 
tanians  ;  and  the  next  moment  we  had  recog- 
nised  them — they   were   the   young   Russian 
and   his   companion.     Well,  why  not  ?     Had 
they  not  as  much  right  to  go  sight-seeing  as 
anybody  ?     Nay,  had  they  not  even  seemed  to 
avoid   us,  by  coming   past  the   cave  without 
seeking  to  enter  ? 

But  when  we  had  clambered  up  these 
century-worn  tiers,  and  crossed  a  space  of 
gritty  ground  and  spiky  weeds,  and  come  to 
an  opening  cut  into  the  rock  leading  to  the 
higher  end  of  the  cavern,  we  found  that  M. 
Hitrovo  had  not  the  least  wish  to  avoid  us. 
On  the  contrary,  he  rather  left  his  companion, 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  171 

and  came  forward,  and  spoke  pleasantly  and 
carelessly  to  this  one  and  that,  eventually, 
however,  addressing  himself  exclusively  to 
Amelie  Dumaresq.  And,  oddly  enough,  he 
invariably  seemed  to  have  the  power  of 
drawing  her  away  from  her  friends — if  only 
for  a  yard  or  so — so  that  he  and  she  could 
speak  together.  Yet  there  was  no  affectation 
of  secresy ;  not  at  all.  She  appeared  to  find 
him  amusing.  She  would  look  at  him  with 
her  eyes  full  of  smiles.  As  for  him,  he  did 
not  seem  to  take  too  much  trouble  about  her. 
He  rather  patronised  her.  But  he  had  a 
pretty  laugh  ;  and  his  eyes — yes,  it  could  not 
be  denied  that  those  blue-grey  eyes  were 
singularly  clear,  that  they  were  full  of  light, 
and  that  they  might  possibly  have  a  bewilder- 
ing effect  on  a  young  woman  become  curious 
and  interested. 

At  this  moment  Peggy  came  back  from  the 
opening  into  the  rock. 

"  What  we  should   have    done,"  said    she, 


172  WOLFENBERG. 

"  was  for  one  of  us  to  have  remained  in  the 
cavern.  Here  we  can  talk  into  the  roof  of 
the  place,  but  there  is  no  one  to  answer  us 
from  below." 

"  Oh,  I  will  go  down  if  you  like,"  said  Paul 
Hitrovo  at  once.  "  What  do  you  say,  Miss 
Dumaresq  ?  Shall  we  go  down  and  listen  to 
them  and  answer  them  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  by  all  means,"  said  she, 
cheerfully  ;  and  the  next  moment  those  two 
were  making  their  way  down  the  successive 
stone  ridges  of  this  great  theatre,  in  the 
direction  of  the  distant  road,  and  the  aque- 
duct, and  chasm  leading  to  the  echoing  cave. 
It  was  all  the  work  of  an  instant.  How 
was  any  one  to  interfere  ?  Or  was  Amelie 
Dumaresq  the  kind  of  person  to  brook  inter- 
ference ? 

But  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  whose  attention 
had  been  drawn  away  at  the  moment,  was 
most  angry  and  indignant  when  she  discovered 
what   had   happened.      Those   two  retreating 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  173 

figures  had  now  reached  the  aqueduct  ; 
another  second,  and  they  had  disappeared 
from  sight. 

"It  is  really  too  bad,"  she  said,  with  frown- 
ing brows.  "  She  is  under  my  charge.  She 
has  no  right  to  make  off  like  that.  If  she  has 
had  her  head  turned " 

She  stopped.  Wolfenberg  was  standing  by. 
But  indeed  he  was  not  listening.  There  was 
a  strange  look  on  his  features.  His  eyes  were 
pre-occupied  and  thoughtful,  but  the  eyebrows 
were  drawn  down  somewhat ;  and  the  firm 
mouth  that  gave  character  to  an  otherwise 
wistful  and  pensive  countenance  betokened 
determination.  Was  he  nerving  himself  to 
face  something  he  had  not  hitherto  contem- 
plated ?  Or  was  he  merely  resolved  to  pay 
no  heed  to  this  little  incident  that  had  just 
occurred  ?  Apparently,  he  was  not  looking 
after  the  fugitives — though  he  must  have  seen 
them  disappear  ;  his  gaze,  at  once  absent  and 
inscrutable,  was  fixed  on   that  fertile   cham- 


i74  WOLFENBERG. 

paign  country  with  its  luxuriant  lemon  groves, 
and  on  the  yellow-grey  city  perched  on  the 
point,  with  the  fair  blue-belt  of  sea  beyond. 
He  did  not  seem  to  wish  to  speak  to  any 
one.  He  was  alone  with  himself — and  we  left 
him  so. 

What  echo-borne  conversation  ensued  be- 
tween the  little  group  in  this  small  and  lofty 
gallery  and  the  two  unseen  people  in  the 
profound  abyss  below,  we  did  not  care  to  hear  : 
for  one  thing,  there  was  a  cold  wind  coming 
whistling  through  that  aperture  sufficiently 
dangerous  for  folk  who  had  been  all  day  baked 
and  boiled  and  blistered  under  a  Sicilian  sun. 
The  remarkable  circumstance  was  that  Hitrovo 
and  Amelie  Dumaresq  did  not  reappear — even 
after  this  experiment  was  long  over.  The 
carriages  were  in  sight  down  by  the  aqueduct ; 
but  those  two  made  no  sign. 

"  We'd  better  go  down,"  said  Mrs.  Three- 
penny-bit, concealing  her  vexation  very  well 
indeed.       "  Most  likely  they  are  waiting  for 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  175 

us,  or  perhaps  they  may  have  set  out  on  foot 
for  Syracuse  without  saying  anything — young 
people  are  so  inconsiderate." 

However,  when  we  had  descended  those 
massive  steps,  and  when  we  had  got  into  the 
road,  and  round  by  the  aqueduct,  we  thought 
we  might  as  well  have  a  look  at  the  winding 
chasm  leading  to  the  cave  ;  and  here,  indeed, 
we  found  the  two  truants,  strolling  about, 
and  apparently  quite  unconcerned.  Amelie 
Dumaresq  was  carrying  a  nosegay  of  various 
wild  flowers.  No  doubt  they  had  been 
gathered  for  her  by  her  companion.  And 
the  modest  little  tribute  of  maiden-hair  fern 
that  Wolfenberg  had  presented  her  with  ? 
That  was  gone.  Well,  ferns  wither  soon ; 
perhaps  she  had  thrown  them  away.  But 
an  odd  thing  happened  with  regard  to  this 
new  and  more  florid  bouquet.  The  soldier  in 
charge  of  the  Orecchio  di  Dionisio  had  come 
along  to  bid  us  good-bye  (perhaps  with  some 
ulterior  views)   and    the  moment   he  caught 


176  WOLFENDERG. 

sight  of  the  nosegay  he  said  to   her  in    his 
mangled  and  guttural  French  : 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  have  there  some  poison- 
ous flowers  ;  they  will  do  injury  to  your  hands. 
See,  I  will  show  you  the  bad  ones." 

For  a  second  she  did  not  quite  catch  his 
meaning  ;  but  when  she  did  she  saved  him  all 
the  trouble  of  separation  ;  she  instantly  flung 
the  whole  lot  away  with  a  gesture  as  if  she 
had  already  been  stung.  For  Miss  Dumaresq, 
as  we  had  noticed  before  now,  had  a  pretty 
good  idea  of  taking  care  of  .herself.  As  we 
drove  away  back  to  Syracuse,  she  repeatedly 
looked  at  the  palm  and  fingers  of  her  little 
plump  white  hand.  And  she  had  abundant 
opportunities  of  doing  so  ;  for  Wolfenberg  was 
unusually  silent ;  when  he  spoke,  it  was  mostly 
to  Mrs.  Threepenny- bit,  as  we  sometimes  call 
her. 

That  night,  after  dinner,  Amelie  Dumaresq 
was  entirely  in  her  element.  There  was  music 
on  the  Marina ;  the  town  was  all  illuminated  ; 


THE  EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  177 

from  the  deck  of  the  ship  you  could  see  the 
electric  light  shining  on  the  tall  white  houses  ; 
there  were  the  black  masses  of  the  acacia-trees 
along  the  promenade ;  then  there  were  the 
long  lines  of  silver  reflections  quivering  on  the 
glassy  water.  The  music  was  gay  waltz  - 
music ;  it  was  all  pretty,  modern,  French, 
light-hearted  ;  she,  lying  back  in  her  chair, 
and  looking  towards  the  shore,  might  have 
fancied  herself  at  Biarritz,  at  Nice,  at  Monte 
Carlo.  She  was  chattering  away  vivaciously. 
Would  it  not  make  an  excellent  Impressionist 
subject — the  spectral  houses,  the  dark  masses 
of  the  trees,  the  blue-white  globes,  the  quiverino- 
of  the  reflected  lights  down  through  the  black 
deeps  ?  She  would  like  to  try  it  herself — in 
oils,  when  she  had  grown  more  familiar  with 
that  medium. 

"What  do  you  say,  Ernest?"  she  asked, 
looking  round,  for  Wolfenberg  was  stand- 
ing by. 

"  Whatever   you    see    your  way  to   doiDo-, 
vol.  1.  ir 


178  WOLFENBERG. 

Amelie,"    he   made  answer,   "  will  have   cha- 
racter and  quality  in  it — and  life." 

Only  one  other  occurrence  remains  to  be 
chronicled  of  this  evening  ;  but  that  was  of  a 
wholly  cataclysmic  nature.  The  humble  re- 
porter of  these  various  doings  and  proceedings, 
having  been  sent  down  to  the  saloon  to  order 
some  "  cold  sodas "  for  the  women-folk,  was 
returning  to  his  place,  when  he  chanced  to  run 
against  a  young  lady  who  was  standing  in  the 
dusky  shadow  outside  the  top  of  the  companion- 
way.  And  with  every  wish  to  be  discreet,  and 
blind,  and  non-existent,  he  could  not  but  per- 
ceive that  the  young  lady  had  just  received, 
and  was  now  quickly  thrusting  into  her  pocket, 
some  scrap  of  paper  that  had  been  handed 
her  by  a  young  gentleman  who  was  making 
off  in  another  direction.  The  young  man, 
clearly  enough,  was  Julian  Verrinder,  who  had 
come  on  board  at  Palermo  in  that  curiously 
unaccountable  fashion,  apparently  without  any 
pre-arranged  purpose,  and  professing  to  know 


THE  EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  179 

no  human  creature  in  the  ship.     The  young 

woman oh,  Baby,  Baby  ! 

***** 
Next  morning  was  devoted  to  busy  idleness. 
Some  went  off  on  an  exploration  of  the  older 
portions  of  Ortygia — though  that  was  rather  a 
difficult  undertaking,  many  of  the  thoroughfares 
being  so  narrow  that  when  you  met  a  drove  of 
donkeys  they  had  to  be  turned  into  the  houses 
and  the  cellar-like  wineshops  to  let  you  go  by ; 
others  got  a  boat  and  made  away  for  the  Eiver 
Anapus ;  while  one  or  two  of  us  thought  we 
would  stroll  along  to  the  Fountain  of  Arethusa 
— chiefly  to  fall  in  with  the  burning  impetuosity 
and  entreaties  of  our  good  Sappho.  And  as 
Lady  Cameron  went  with  us,  so,  you  may 
be  sure,  did  the  ever-faithful  Major.  And 
here,  too,  was  the  Baby- — the  serious,  the 
reserved,  Juno-eyed  maiden,  whose  very 
manner  was  a  standing  reproach  to  her  more 
sprightly,  sister.  As  for  the  young  man  who 
had  mysteriously  sprung  himself  upon  us  after 


180  WOLFENBERG. 

leaving  Palermo But  he  was  nowhere  to 

be  seen. 

And  it  must  be  owned  that  on  this  occasion 
the  Major  behaved  himself  in  a  most  shocking 
fashion ;  for  irreverence  is  not  becoming  to 
advanced  years.  He  seemed  to  resent  the 
quite  genuine  enthusiasm  of  our  tumultuous 
poetess. 

"  Arethusa  arose,  from  her  couch  of  snows, 
In  the  Acroceraunian  mountains," 

she  was  repeating  to  herself  in  a  proud  way. 
as  she  regarded  the  confined  little  lake,  and 
the  tall  reeds,  and  the  overhanging  acacias. 

" I  don't  see  any  mountains,"  he  observed, 
pettishly. 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  made  answer,  staring 
at  him.  "  Acroceraunia  is  away  over  in 
Greece — in  Epirus.  Don't  you  know  the 
story  ? " 

His  silence  confessed  his  ignorance ;  and 
right  eagerly — for  it  was  a  tale  after  her 
own  heart — did   she  pour  into  his  unwilling 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  181 

ear  the  legend  of  the  passionate  river-god 
and  the  flying  maiden.  But  the  Major  was 
lying  in  wait  for  his  revenge. 

"She  came  all  the  way  under  the  sea,  and 
made  her  appearance  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  delighted  Sappho. 
"They  say  that  if  you  throw  anything  into 
the  Eiver  Alpheus " 

"She  was  a  goddess,  I  presume  ? "  he  asked 
again. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  Arethusa  was  a  daughter  of 
Oceanus." 

"  I  thought  as  much  :  if  she  came  all  the 
way  under  the  Ionian  Sea,  she  must  have 
been  an  excellent  Diva."  And  the  wicked 
old  man  giggled  and  gurgled  with  laughter 
until  he  was  purple  in  the  face ;  and  not 
only  that,  but  he  treasured  up  his  wretched 
schoolboy  witticism,  so  that  every  one  on 
board  the  ship  had  heard  of  it  before  the 
evening.  As  for  Sappho,  she  would  pay  no 
heed   to    such    ribaldry.       She   gave    Phaon's 


132  WOLFENBERG. 

leading-string  a  twitch,  and  turned  haughtily 
aside. 

We  weighed  anchor  about  mid-day,  and 
steamed  slowly  out  of  the  harbour;  and  in 
due  course  of  time  we  had  lost  sight  of  land 
again — nothing  visible  anywhere  save  that 
wide  circle  of  trembling  and  shining  blue,  with 
a  few  motionless  yellow-white  clouds  along 
the  southern  horizon.  But  although  there 
was  an  abundance  of  leisure  for  everybody  all 
the  afternoon,  it  was  not  until  the  evening, 
in  fact  it  was  not  until  night  fell,  that  Mrs. 
Threepenny-bit  and  her  friend  Peggy  found 
an  opportunity  of  talking  over  what  had 
taken  place  on  shore  at  Syracuse.  They 
came  right  aft,  to  their  accustomed  corner 
behind  the  wheel-box,  where  there  was  little 
danger  of  their  being  overheard.  And  it 
soon  became  apparent  that  the  elder  woman 
had  been  much  impressed  by  one  or  two 
circumstances  that  had  come  under  her 
observation  during  the  last  day  or  two. 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  183 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  going  to  happen," 
said  she,  rather  sadly.  "  I  have  such  a 
respect  and  liking  for  Mr.  Wolfenberg — such 
an  admiration  for  the  simplicity  and  refine- 
ment of  his  character — yes,  and  such  a 
sympathy  for  his  lonely  position " 

"  And  so  have  I,"  says  Peggy,  breaking 
in.  "  But  when  a  married  man  allows  him- 
self to  fall  in  love  with  an  unmarried  young 
woman  he  must  take  the  consequences." 

"  Peggy  !  "  the  elder  woman  exclaims, 
indignantly.  "  That  is  not  the  situation  at 
all.  He  is  not  in  love  with  her,  as  a 
younger  man  might  be.  He  has  a  great 
affection  for  her,  no  doubt,  a  most  un- 
selfish affection  and  care  for  her,  every  one 
can  see  that ;  and  a  deep  interest  in  her  and 
her  future.  I  have  told  you  all  along  that 
I  considered  the  relationship  existing  between 
those  two  as  a  most  beautiful  thing— and  I 
take  her  own  description  of  it ;  but  the 
difficulty  is  as  to  how  any  such  relationship 


1 84  WOLFENBERG. 

can  be  made  permanent.  That  is  where  the 
danger  comes  in.  He  thinks,  or  he  tries  to 
persuade  himself,  that  her  mind  is  too  down- 
right, her  brain  too  clear,  for  her  to  give 
way  to  the  illusions  of  love  ;  she  will  never 
marry ;  her  career  is  art ;  she  is  an  artist 
through  and  through.  So  he  seems  to  think. 
But  if  she  is  an  artist,  she  is  also  a  woman." 
"  And    very  much    of   a  woman,"    puts   in 

"  Have  you  noticed  how  thoughtful  and 
careworn  he  has  looked  during  the  last  day 
or  two  ?  "  her  companion  goes  on.  "  Do  you 
think  he  is  beginning  to  see  there  is  a  possi- 
bility of  Amelie  Dumaresq  falling  away  from 
that  compact — a  possibility  of  his  being  left 
alone  ?  Did  you  notice  the  expression  of  his 
face  yesterday,  when  he  was  standing  by 
himself  away  up  there  on  the  Greek  Theatre, 
and  when  she  and  the  Eussian  had  disappeared 
below  ?  " 

"  A    man    cannot    suffer    the    tortures    of 


THE   EAR    OF  DIONYSIUS.  185 

jealousy  unless  he  is  in    love,"    says   Peggy, 
in  her  frank  way. 

"  It  was  something  far  wider  and  deeper 
than  that,"  says  the  other,  absently.  "It 
appeared  to  me  as  if  he  were  contemplating 
the  possible  ruin — the  second  and  final  ruin 
— of  his  life.  All  the  schemes  and  hopes  he 
had  been  counting  on  for  the  future — all  the 
companionship  and  compensation  he  had  been 
promised — tumbling  away  from  beneath  his 
feet:  himself  left  betrayed  by  the  very  one 
who  had  made  a  show  of  coming  to  his 
rescue." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Missis,"  says  Peggy,  with 
some  effort  at  cheerfulness ;  "  it  isn't  so  tragic 
as  all  that — not  yet,  at  all  events.  She  has 
been  flirting  with  the  Russian,  no  doubt  ; 
and  she  may  have  had  her  head  a  little  bit 
turned.  But  you  know  the  remarkably  blunt 
and  plain  things  she  says  about  marriage  : 
she  is  not  likely  to  be  entrapped.  All  this 
will  blow  over ;  the  Russian  and  his  beautiful 


1 86  WOLFENBERG. 

eyes  will  disappear  at  the  end  of  the  voyage ; 
and  she  will  return  to  her  loyal  allegiance 
— to  her  art  and  her  friend.  Why,  she  is 
bound  in  honour !  How  often  has  she  declared 
her  determination  to  make  up  to  him  for  what 
that  other  woman  has  done  ? " 

Mrs.  Threepenny-bit  was  silent  for  a  long 
time. 

"  It  seems  such  a  piteous  thing,"  she  said 
at  length,  with  a  bit  of  a  sigh,  "  that  a  man 
of  his  fine  and  sensitive  character  should  be 
at  the  mercy  of  the  caprice  of  any  woman. 
But  perhaps  you  are  right,  Peggy.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  Amelie  Dumaresq  will  recover  her 
senses,  and  will  remember  what  she  undertook. 
"We  shall  see — and  that  very  soon,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken." 


(      i87      ) 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND." 


We  are  somewhere  in  the  Ionian  Sea.  It 
is  early  morning,  shining  and  calm.  One 
happens  to  be  alone  on  deck  when  a  young 
man  makes  his  appearance,  and  approaches. 
He  is  a  youth  of  a  diffident  and  ingenuous 
aspect — English-looking,  with  just  enough  of 
a  moustache  to  lend  excuse  for  a  touch  of 
pomatum.  But  when,  after  a  great  deal  of 
apology,  and  blushing,  and  shy  appealing 
of  eyes,  he  blurts  out  what  he  wants,  one 
finds  his  demand  is  not  nearly  so  modest  as 
his  manner :  he  would  like  an  introduction 
to  Lady  Cameron  of  Inverfask  ! 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  goes  on,  in  this  nervous, 
embarrassed    fashion,    "  I — I    made    the    ac- 


188  WOLFENBERG. 

qaaintance  of  her  sister  Emily  in  Milan — 
and — 1  don't  want  to  have  anything  under- 
hand about  it " 

"  Of  course  not ;  quite  right.  Why  don't 
you  go  straight  to  Lady  Cameron,  and  tell 
her  you  got  to  know  her  sister  in  Milan  ? " 

"  It  isn't  as  easy  as  all  that,"  he  answers, 
rather  ruefully.  "She  might  begin  to  question 
Emily — Miss  Eosslyn,  I  mean.  And — and — 
there  was  a  kind  of  informality,  don't  you 
know.  I  suppose  you  heard  of  the  lady  Miss 
Eosslyn  was  travelling  with  being  taken  so 
seriously  ill ;  and  her  husband,  Mr.  Vincent, 
would  not  leave  her  for  a  moment  almost ; 
and  so — so,  you  see — Emily  was  pretty  well 
alone.  And  I  was  staying  in  the  same  hotel. 
And — and  she  used  to  go  every  morning  to 
the  Cathedral — and  then  I  used  to  meet  her 
— and — and  the  Public  Gardens  are  not  far 
off.  Well,  perhaps  I'd  better  tell  you  the 
downright  truth  at  once.  We  are  engaged 
to  be  married." 


''  TO  A  THENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."   189 

"  The  mischief  you  are  !  " 

"At  least,  there  is  an  understanding  that 
is  quite  as  good/'  he  says  ;  and  then  he  goes 
on,  with  a  little  becoming  hesitation  :  ic  And 
I  don't  see  how  any  one  can  object.  I  am 
my  own  master  now.  I  can  make  a  settlement 
on  Emily  that  I  think  will  satisfy  her  family, 
however  rich  they  may  be " 

"  They  are  not  rich ;  they  are  poor — for 
Americans.  But  why  on  earth  didn't  you 
go  to  Lady  Cameron  the  very  moment  you 
came  on  board  at  Palermo,  and  tell  her  the 
whole  story  ? " 

"  It  isn't  as  easy  as  you  seem  to  think," 
he  makes  answer,  almost  in  tones  of  reproach. 
"I'm  in  a  kind  of  way  under  orders — from 
her.  I've  got  to  do  as  I'm  bid.  But  she 
couldn't  object  to  my  writing  home  to  my 
mother  and  sister :  they  are  not  in  a  position 
to  ask  questions.  And,  you  see,  if  you  would 
be  so  awfully  kind  as  to  introduce  me  to 
Lady   Cameron,    then    through    her    I    could 


i9o  WOLFENBERG. 

make  Emily's  acquaintance  all  fair  and  square 
and  above-board,  in  a  proper  and  regular 
manner.  That's  how  I  am  instructed,  as 
the  lawyers  say,"  adds  this  poor  young  man, 
with  a  dolorous  attempt  at  a  smile. 

"  Very  well ;  come  down  early  to  lunch  ; 
blunder  into  a  seat  at  our  table  ;  and  then 
we'll  see." 

That,  to  our  small  circle,  was  the  event 
of  the  day.  Sharp  at  one  the  young  man 
appeared  at  the  door  of  the  saloon  ;  he  looked 
round  with  a  pretty  humility  ;  and  at  length 
came  and  gently  subsided  into  the  vacant 
seat  opposite  the  Baby.  A  word  or  two 
introduced  him  to  Lady  Cameron,  who  was 
also  on  the  other  side  of  the  table.  And 
that  was  all  he  had  bargained  for ;  indeed, 
formal  introductions  are  rarely  needed  on 
board  ship ;  but  how  could  one  resist  the 
temptation  of  confronting  those  two  young 
wretches  now  that  they  were  brought  face  to 
face  ? 


"  TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  191 

"  Miss  Emily,  may  I  introduce  to  you  Mr. 
Julian  Verrinder  ? " 

The  two  abandoned  hypocrites  bowed 
gravely :  he,  with  downcast  eyes,  showing 
some  little  confusion ;  she,  with  her  statu- 
esque face  grown  pseony-like,  not  daring  to 
look  up.  Yet  perhaps  their  embarrassment 
remained  unnoticed  ;  for  just  at  that  moment 
Peggy,  as  a  young  house-mistress,  was  giving 
us  her  experiences  of  Highland  servants  as 
contrasted  with  the  American  (or  sub-Irish) 
variety ;  and  of  course  that  was  a  most 
interesting  topic  for  the  other  manager  who 
rules  over  us  all.  But  it  seemed  to  one  of 
us  sitting  there  that  a  great  and  glorious 
nation  like  the  Americans — a  progressive 
nation — a  nation  clamorously  calling  atten- 
tion to  its  gigantic  strides — it  seemed  to 
one  of  us  that  such  a  nation  should  not 
stop  short  at  the  abolition  of  slavery ;  it 
should  go  a  step  further,  and  abolish  domestic 
service  altogether  as  degrading  and  inhuman. 


192  WOLFENBERG. 

"  And  who  is  to  find  work  for  all  those 
people,  then  ? "  said  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit. 
"  Who  is  to  support  them  ? " 

"The  State,  of  course;  State  compensation." 

"They  are  to  be  brought  up  in  pampered 
idleness  ? " 

"Why,  certainly!" 

"  Then  shall  the  valets  rejoice  and  the 
maidservants  skip  like  the  young  rams," 
observed  Peggy,  demurely — and  fortunately 
she  was  but  half-heard. 

This  was  a  hot  and  sultry  and  languorous 
afternoon,  ^eggy  said  she  wished  she  had 
brought  a  few  begging-letters  with  her,  to 
hang  up  in  her  cabin ;  their  coolness,  she 
imagined,  would  turn  any  place  into  a  re- 
frigerator. Laziness  was  the  order  of  the 
day  on  deck :  books,  chess,  dominoes,  draughts, 
surreptitious  snoring.  But  of  a  sudden,  just 
after  sunset,  a  rumour  ran  like  wild-fire 
through  the  ship  that  the  coast  of  Greece 
was  in  sight ;  there  was  a  quick  abandonment 


"  TO  A  THENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  193 

of  these  various  occupations,  and  a  rush  to 
the  rail ;  and  there,  sure  enough,  far  away 
in  the  north-east,  beyond  the  dark  indigo 
sea,  and  half-hidden  in  a  crimson-tinted  mist 
that  caught  its  colour  from  the  fading  western 
skies,  rose  one  or  two  mountainous  peaks, 
pale  and  shadowy,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Cape  Matapan.  At  once  our  enthusiastic 
Sappho  was  in  a  state  of  tremulous  excite- 
ment. What  was  the  ancient  name  of  the 
Cape  ?  What  ? — Tsenarium,  where  Hercules 
slew  the  serpent?  And  Cape  Malea  was  the 
next  point?  And  Cerigo — Cythera — was  right 
ahead  of  us?  These  other  women — poor,  vain, 
soulless  creatures — were  now  all  going  away 
to  their  state-rooms  to  dress  for  dinner ;  but 
not  so  Sappho ;  was  it  likely,  when  we 
should  soon  be  approaching  the  island  where 
Aphrodite  sprang  glorious  from  the  white  sea- 
foam  ?  The  dusk  fell.  The  sultry  day  had 
been  storing  up  electricity;  blue  lightning- 
flashes    began    to    play    along    the   northern 

VOL.  1.  0 


r94  WOLFENBERG. 

horizon.  But  at  length  we  also  were  forced 
to  leave  our  good  Sappho,  her  arms  pensive 
on  the  rail ;  we  guessed  we  should  find  some 
fruits  of  this  rapt  contemplation  later  on. 

Now  what  vengeful  god  or  goddess,  what 
unholy  witch  or  wizard,  threw  a  spell  of 
incantation  over  our  ship  on  this  succeeding 
night,  so  that  during  the  dark  hours  we  were 
whisked  away  some  thousands  of  miles  from 
our  proper  whereabouts  ?  The  next  morning 
found  us  in  the  Sound  of  Sleat !  There  could 
be  no  doubt  about  it.  A  single  glance  out 
of  the  port-hole  revealed  the  strangely  familiar 
features — the  calm,  glassy  blue  sea  ;  the  bare,- 
and  lonely,  and  apparently  tenantless  islands  ; 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun,  streaming  over  from 
the  east,  lighting  up  those  solitary  shores. 
But — but — if  this  is  the  coast  of  Skye,  where 
are  the  mighty  Coolins  with  their  black  and 
jagged  peaks  piercing  the  heavens?  And 
those  islands,  in  their  soft  and  beautiful  rose- 
grey  :    are    they   not    something    warmer    in 


"  TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND?'  195 

tone  than  the  wind-swept  Hebrides  ?  And 
then  again,  when  one  collects  one's  scattered 
senses,  ought  we  not  by  rights  to  be  some- 
where in  the  neighbourhood  of  Argolis,  with 
Hydra  on  the  one  hand,  and  Agio  Giorgio 
on  the  other,  and  before  us  the  spacious  Gulf 
of  iEgina  ?  It  is  time  to  get  on  deck,  to 
clear  up  these  bewildering  doubts. 

And  here  is  Peggy,  luckily  all  by  her- 
self. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  says,  with  something 
of  a  rueful  smile,  "  that  when  I  got  up  this 
morning  and  looked  out,  I  thought  I  was 
at  home  again  ! " — and  when  this  tall  young 
lady  talks  about  home,  it  is  not  Kentucky 
she  has  in  her  mind,  though  'twas  there  she 
was  born. 

Suddenly  she  alters  her  tone. 

"  Now  that  we  have  a  minute  together," 
says  she,  rather  indignantly,  "  perhaps  you 
will  tell  me  when  I  am  to  get  back  to  my 
own  friends,     I  came  away  with  you.     I  did 


196  WOLFENBERG. 

not  bargain  to  go  about  with  an  inspired 
maniac  of  a  poetess  and  a  swearing  old  Major 
making  bad  jokes " 

"  Oh,  oh  !  For  you  to  say  anything  against 
the  Major — considering  his  devotion  to  you — 
and  the  way  you  have  been  openly  carrying- 
on  with  him " 

"  Carrying  on  !  "  she  says.  "Much  chance 
of  carrying  on  with  anybody — while  the 
Baby's  great  eyes  are  staring  at  you  all 
the  time  !  " 

"Perhaps  the  Baby  might  as  well  look  to 
herself/'  one  ventures  to  say. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing.  But  here  is  some  information 
for  you.  You  know  it  was  merely  because 
we  had  Amelie  Dumaresq  thrown  on  our 
hands  that  you  and  we  got  separated  when 
we  went  on  shore.  But  this  time,  while 
we  are  at  Athens,  the  Dumaresqs  are  going 
to  stay  at  an  hotel,  to  save  the  trouble  of 
coming  back  each  night  to  the  steamer.     And 


"  TO  A  THENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  197 

you  may  be  sure  that  the  Major  will  dine 
at  an  hotel,  for  the  sake  of  variety — yes,  and 
Sappho,  too,  if  anybody  will  ask  her " 

"And  we  shall  be  together  again  and  by 
ourselves  !  "  says  Peggy,  with  a  quick  delight 
shining  in  her  eyes.  "  That  will  be  something 
to  make  up !  And  I'll  tell  you  what  we 
must  do.  After  dinner  the  Missis  and  you 
must  come  into  my  cabin ;  and  I'll  get  out 
my  banjo ;  and  we'll  have  one  of  the  real 
old  evenings  !  I  think  we'll  give  old  Father 
Time  what  for;  we'll  make  things  hum  a 
little  !  "  But  here  her  face  falls.  "  There's 
the  Baby — I  forgot  her." 

"  Is  she  so  very  austere  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  is  too  solemn  for  anything !  "  says 
Peggy,  with  a  certain  impatience,  though  she 
is  fond  enough  of  the  serious-minded  Emily 
all  the  same.  "  She  ought  to  go  into  some 
religious  retreat — some  sisterhood  :  that  will 
be  the  end  of  it  all,  I  know.  And  here  she 
is  coming  now.     Didn't  I  tell  you  ?     I  never 


198  WOLFENBERG. 

can  get  a  word  with  anybody,  without  finding 
her  big  eyes  staring  at  me  !  " 

And  so  we  steamed  on  through  the  luminous 
and  glancing  azure,  on  the  one  hand  the 
ruddy  island  of  iEgina,  on  the  other  the 
mountainous  coast  that  leads  away  down 
to  "  Sunium's  marbled  steep."  It  was  a 
delightful,  idle,  dreamy  kind  of  morning — 
not  the  kind  of  morning  on  which  one  wanted 
to  be  startled  or  even  surprised ;  so  that  when 
a  very  gentle-voiced  and  gentle-eyed  lady 
came  up  to  our  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  and 
held  out  her  binocular  glass,  and  said 
quietly — 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  look  at  the  Acro- 
polis ?  "  —  the  smaller  woman  could  only 
stammer  out,  in  a  frightened  sort  of  way  : 

"  The— the  Acropolis  of  Athens  ?  " 

The  next  instant  she  was  on  her  feet, 
staring  eagerly  and  goggle-eyed.  For  yonder, 
unmistakably,  were  the  distant  and  lofty 
heights,  with  a  glimmer  of  grey  columns,  and 


"  TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND"  199 

with  a  strip  of  grey  town  far  below;  and 
yonder,  too,  were  the  scarred  and  shaggy 
slopes  of  Mount  Hymettus ;  while  down  by 
the  blue  sea  was  the  bold  scimitar-sweep  of 
the  shores  of  Salamis.  The  first  impression 
we  received  was  one  of  extreme  loneliness 
and  lifelessness,  despite  the  presence  of  that 
powdered  grey  city.  There  was  not  a  boat 
moving  anywhere  on  these  shining  clear 
waters ;  the  coast-line  seemed  strangely  un- 
inhabited. For  one  thing,  we  were  not  going 
round  into  the  Peirasus,  on  account  of  certain 
rumours  of  fever  that  had  reached  us  at 
Syracuse ;  we  were  making  in  for  the  solitary 
little  Bay  of  Phalerum ;  and  that  we  took 
possession  of,  and  had  all  to  ourselves. 

"  Peggy,"  said  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  some 
little  time  thereafter,  when  we  had  got  ready 
to  go  ashore  for  a  preliminary  look  round — 
and  she  spoke  in  a  low  voice — "  have  you 
heard  ?  Mr.  Hitrovo  is  going  to  stay  at  the 
same  hotel  with  the  Dumaresqs." 


200  WOLFENBERG. 

Peggy  said  nothing,  but  looked  much. 

"  And  they  have  asked  us  to  lunch  with 
them  to-morrow,"  her  friend  continued  ;  "  and 
I  have  accepted,  for  all  of  us.'' 

"  Will  the  Russian  be  there  ? "  asked  Peggy. 

"That  depends  on  whether  Amelie  Dunia- 
resq  wants  him  to  be  there.  It  is  all  her 
arrangement.  If  she  wishes  him  to  be  there 
he  will  be  there.  She  has  a  way  of  getting 
everything  she  wants — even  if  it  were  the 
moon,  I  should  think." 

"  And  Wolfenberg  ?  " 

"  Peggy,"  said  the  smaller  woman,  "  Mr. 
Wolfenberg  is  in  charge  of  them  !  Do  you 
mean  to  say  there  might  be  a  possibility  of  the 
Russian  being  present  as  their  guest — making 
up  a  family  party,  almost — and  Wolfenberg 
absent  ?     That  would  be  too — too — much  !  " 

"  Yet  such  things  have  happened,"  observed 
Peggy,  calmly,  as  she  watched  the  men  bring- 
ing the  boats  round  to  take  us  in  to  the  land. 

Truly  it  is  an  ignominious  thing  that  you 


"TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  201 

have  to  approach  Athens  by  either  rail  or 
tramway  ;  but  travellers  must  be  content ;  and 
when  we  got  ashore  we  took  our  tickets  in  the 
empty  little  station  of  Phaleruru,  j  ust  as  if  we 
>  had  been  going  to  Greenwich.  And  when  the 
train  came  in,  our  party  of  four  got  possession 
of  a  compartment  in  the  most  ordinary  way  : 
there  positively  would  have  been  no  enthu- 
siasm, no  excitement,  no  recalling  of  ancient 
deeds  and  ancient  glories,  had  not  our  dear 
Sappho  skipped  in  also,  followed  by  the 
Major  in  pursuit  of  Peggy.  And  in  vain 
did  Sappho  strive  to  conceal  her  exaltation. 
As  we  moved  out  into  the  arid  and  dusty 
plain,  she  was  all  eagerness  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  Paver  Cephissus — the  Cephissus  in 
which  the  youthful  Theseus  had  bathed  before 
going  to  the  palace  of  King  iEgeus  to  claim 
his  rights.  Alas  !  there  was  no  Cephissus. 
It  had  all  gone  away.  We  saw  one  or  two 
channels  in  the  limy  soil  that  might  at  one 
time  or  another  have   been  a  river-bed ;  but 


202  WOLFENBERG. 

were  now  more  likely  to  be  frequented  by 
lizards  than  by  fish.  And  there  would  be  no 
Ilissus  either,  then  ?  she  demanded.  And  no 
Fountain  of  Callirrhoe  ? 

"  The  whole  place  is  burned  up,"  said  the 
Major,  who  seemed  secretly  to  rejoice  in  her 
disappointment.  "  And  shan't  we  be  roasted 
alive  in  this  blessed  town  !  I  tell  you,  about 
the  only  cool  thing  we  are  likely  to  find  in 
Athens  is  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon." 

He  o-iQ-rfed :  but  no  one  else  did.  This 
brutality  seemed  to  set  the  seal  on  our 
degradation.  It  was  only  fit  that  we  should 
arrive  in  Athens  carrying  railway-tickets  in 
our  hands. 

But  on  reaching  the  terminus  we  managed 
to  throw  off  those  two  :  our  party  of  four  just 
filled  a  carriage  ;  and,  as  we  drove  away,  we 
caught  sight  of  the  Major  having  perforce, 
and  probably  with  a  very  ill  grace,  to  offer 
a  seat  in  his  vehicle  to  his  forlorn  companion. 
We  saw  no  more  of  Sappho  for  a  long  time 


"  TO  A  THENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  203 

thereafter — not,  indeed,  until  we  found  her 
in  front  of  the  little  Temple  of  Nike  Apteros, 
absorbed  and  awe-stricken,  and  no  doubt 
dreaming  of  the  black -sailed  ships  coming 
back  from  Crete,  far  out  on  yonder  blue 
plain  of  sea. 

We  made  direct  away  for  the  Acropolis,  of 
course ;  our  first  stage  in  the  ever-ascending 
route  being  the  Temple  of  Theseus,  where  we 
found  the  Dumaresqs  and  Wolfenberg — the 
Russian  being  unexpectedly  absent.  Amelie 
Dumaresq — who  was  somehow  always  the 
central  figure  of  any  such  chance-formed 
group,  and  whose  opinions  seemed  to  demand 
attention — did  not  appear  to  have  been  im- 
pressed by  the  Theseum.  It  was  smaller  than 
she  had  anticipated.  It  had  been  copied  so 
often  that  itself  looked  like  a  copy.  Roofed 
over,  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  museum.  It 
was  too  complete.  There  was  not  enough 
ruin  about  it.  If  the  Venetians,  in  besieging 
the  Acropolis,  had  thrown  a  few  bombs  into 


204  WOLFENBERG. 

this  building,  and  knocked,  it  about  a  bit, 
it  would  have  been  infinitely  improved.  It 
wanted  the  letting  in  of  daylight — and  a 
background  of  blue  sky  for  the  pillars.  And 
so  forth.     Wolfenberg  listened. 

"Amelie,"  said  he,  with  a  smile,  "  come 
with  me.  I  will  show  you  something  that 
will  interest  you." 

He  took  her  to  the  end  of  the  building 
where,  out  of  range  of  the  sunlight,  there  were 
several  swarthy- complexioned  figures  lying  in 
various  attitudes  prone  on  the  steps,  either 
asleep  or  merely  basking  in  luxurious  idleness. 
It  was  all  very  picturesque  and  fine  in  colour : 
the  diverse  costumes,  the  warm  tones  of  the 
shadowed  marble,  the  palpitating,  hot  air 
beyond,  the  aerial  tints  of  the  distant  hills. 
And  here,  also,  walking  about  in  very  brave 
array,  were  a  couple  of  Cretans — a  couple  of 
unmistakable  cut-throats,  if  physiognomy  ever 
spoke  a  word  of  truth.  They  stared  at  her ; 
she  stared  at  them  ;  it  was  not  her  eyes — 


"  TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND?  205 

those    bold,    lustrous    black    eyes — that    were 
first  abashed. 

But  then  again,  when  our  panting  horses 
had  dragged  us  away  up  the  stony  hill,  and 
when  on  foot  we  had  ascended  the  worn  and 
steep  steps  of  the  Propylsea,  and  when  at 
length,  after  toiling  across  a  wilderness  of 
broken  pillars,  pedestals,  architraves,  cornices, 
and  the  like,  the  marble  fragments  lying 
tumbled  about  among  parched  weeds  and 
thistles — when  at  length  we  came  in  front 
of  the  Parthenon,  there  was  no  disposition  to 
criticise,  nor  even  to  speak,  manifested  by 
this  young  woman.  Such  artist-soul  as  she 
possessed  seemed  entirely  entranced  by  the 
simplicity  and  grandeur  of  this  spectacle ;  and 
not  only  that,  but  by  the  actual  beauty  of 
the  colour — those  lonely  and  lofty  columns, 
golden-white  and  saffron-stained,  shining  calm 
and  fair  against  the  dark,  deep,  pellucid-blue 
of  a  perfectly  cloudless  sky.  No  picture  or 
any    other   representation    of  the    Parthenon, 


206  WOLFENBERG. 

can  give  any  one  the  faintest  idea  of  this 
rich  and  vivid  and  exquisite  colour  ;  nor  can 
all  the  photographs  that  ever  were  manu- 
factured convey  the  least  impression  of  the 
vastness  of  the  ruin,  or  of  its  height,  and 
remoteness  from  the  rest  of  the  surrounding 
world.  You  forget  that  there  is  a  populous 
city  with  its  swarms  of  houses  lying  scattered 
about  somewhere  down  in  the  valley.  You 
forget  the  long  centuries  of  wrong  and  rapine 
and  outrage  that  have  swept  by  like  so  many 
tempests,  destroying  much,  but  not  destroy- 
ing all.  These  columns,  broken  and  defaced 
as  they  are,  seem  to  rise  above  such  transitory 
things — to  be  somehow  dissociated  from  the 
earth ;  voiceless,  they  appear  to  be  holding 
communion  with  the  still  heavens  ;  and  to 
have  become  immortal  through  their  imperish- 
able beauty.  For  already  we  had  begun  to 
yield  to  the  strange  fascination  that,  while 
you  are  in  Athens,  seems  to  draw  you 
involuntarily  away  up  to  this  grand,  lonely, 


"  TO  A  THENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  207 

beautiful  thing,  and  to  leave  you  pretty  well 
indifferent  to  aught  else. 

Not  but  that  there  were  plenty  of  other 
objects  of  intensest  interest,  up  here  on  the 
Acropolis.  Each  oue  of  our  scattered  party 
seemed  to  go  his  own  way,  wandering  about, 
finding  out  for  himself  or  herself,  and  not 
anxious  for  any  companionship.  Groups 
formed  by  accident ;  then  separated  again ; 
one  amateur  explorer  would  be  chiefly  inte- 
rested in  the  traces  left  by  Turk  and  Christian 
on  the  Greek  walls ;  another  would  go  about 
examining  the  ornamentation  of  fallen  pedi- 
ments and  capitals ;  a  third  might  have  his 
eyes  attracted  by  the  great  panorama  of  sea, 
and  plain,  and  mountain,  with  the  marble 
quarries  of  Pentelicus  gleaming  white  on  the 
far  hill-side.  And  so  it  was  without  any 
surprise  that  one  came  across  Ernest  Wolfen- 
berg,  standing  quite  by  himself,  in  front  of 
the  little  Temple  of  the  Caryatides. 

"  Isn't  it  strange,"  he  began  to  say,  in  his 


208  WOLFENBERG. 

thoughtful  and  dispassionate  manner,  "  how 
difficult  it  is  for  the  official  mind — and  for 
some  other  minds  as  well — to  draw  the  line 
between  preservation  and  restoration  ?  They 
cannot  for  the  life  of  them  leave  things  alone  ; 
they  must  of  necessity  bring  in  the  modern 
mechanic  to  tinker  and  beautify.  And  there's 
another  thing  they  can't  resist  doing  :  when 
they  find  anything  detachable  they  can't  help 
rushing  off  with  it  at  once  to  a  museum,  and 
putting  it  in  a  glass  case  if  that  is  possible. 
And  yet  half  the  value  of  memorials  of  ancient 
life  and  art  lies  in  their  being  allowed  to 
remain  in  situ.  Just  imagine  how  im- 
measurably interesting  it  would  be  if  the 
excavators  would  leave  a  house  in  Pompeii 
precisely  as  they  found  it  :  every  object — 
every  knitting-needle,  and  lamp,  and  dish, 
and  wine-glass — in  its  place,  just  as  it  was 
when  the  ashes  began  to  fall.  But  they 
couldn't  bring  themselves  to  do  that.  They 
must  snatch  up  every  article,  and  away  with 


"  TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND:'  209 

it  to  the  Naples  Museum,  where  there  are 
dozens  and  hundreds  of  them  already.  And 
the  restorers  are  infinitely  worse.  Look  at 
this  beautiful  little  building  that  has  been 
talked  about  for  ages  and  ages.  1  suppose 
putting  in  that  wedge  of  entablature  may  be 
forgiven — perhaps  it  was  necessary ;  but,  you 
see,  they  couldn't  stop  there ;  they  had  to  add 
a  brand  new  Caryatid.  The  Temple  of  the 
Six  Virgins  ought  to  have  six  figures ;  they 
couldn't  leave  it  with  five ;  so  they  added  a 
new  one.  And  then,  naturally,  you  begin 
to  consider  everything  suspect.  These  bits 
of  egg-and-dart  decoration  lying  about :  how 
do  you  know  that  the  modern  mechanic's 
chisel  has  not  been  tinkering  at  them  ?  And 
yet,"  he  went  on  presently,  "  I  must  try  to 
believe  that  the  scroll-work  inside  the 
Erectheum  has  been  left  untouched  :  it  is 
so  indescribably  beautiful.  Did  you  notice 
it  particularly  in  the  inner  temple  and  over 
the   doorway  ?      It   is   well   sheltered   there ; 

VOL.  1.  p 


210  WOLFENBERG. 

perhaps  that  accounts  for  its  perfect  state. 
Come,  shall  we  go  round  and  have  another 
look  ?  " 

Well,  a  second  visit,  although  the  afternoon 
was  drawing  on,  was  no  great  hardship  ;  for 
the  Erectheum  is  far  and  away  the  most  grace- 
ful of  all  the  Acropolis  monuments.     Moreover, 
the  entrance  was   only   a  few  yards   distant. 
But  we  were   suddenly  to   be   recalled   from 
these   architectural  questions    to    more    living- 
interests.     We  were  just  about  to  pass  round 
by  the  steps  leading  up  to  the  tall  and  elegant 
Ionic  pillars,  when  we  perceived  two  figures 
there,  at  the  base  of  the  columns,  and  perhaps 
half  a  yard   or   so  within.      They  were   Paul 
Hitrovo  and  Amelie  Dumaresq.     It  could  not 
be  said  that  there  was  any  effort  at  concealment 
on  their  part ;  still,  their  appearance  here  was 
in  a  measure  startling  ;  for  the   Russian   had 
not    hitherto    been    visible    during    the    day. 
Another    thing  :     ordinarily,    in    talking    to 
Hitrovo,  Amelie  regarded  him  with  frank  and 


"  TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND"  211 

upturned  and  smiling  eyes ;  but  now  her  head 
was  downcast ;  her  face  was  concerned  and 
grave ;  she  was  vaguely  scoring  the  dust  with 
the  point  of  her  sunshade.  He,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  his  eyes  intently  fixed  on  her — so 
that  neither  noticed  the  approach  of  strangers. 
Wolfenberg  turned  quickly  aside — perhaps 
pretending  to  have  seen  nothing. 

"  Some  other  time — any  time —  "  he  said, 
hurriedly,  and  yet  with  some  affectation  of 
calm  indifference.  "  The  fact  is,  a  preliminary 
glance  round  is  quite  enough  for  to-day ;  now 
we  know  where  to  come  for  closer  study.  And 
— and  we  must  not  let  the  women-folk  get 
tired,  especially  Mrs.  Dumaresq,  who  is  not 
very  strong.  Have  you  seen  her  of  late  ?  I 
suppose  she  is  sitting  down  somewhere,  talking 
to  some  one.  I  must  go  and  try  to  find  her 
anyway.  There  are  your  people  coming  round 
yonder  by  the  Parthenon."  And  so  he  went 
away ;  and  those  two,  whatever  they  were 
talking  about,  were  left  undisturbed. 


212  WOLFENBERG. 

It  was  drawing  towards  dusk  when  we  got 
back  to  the  little  wooden  jetty  at  Phalerum  ; 
and  twilight  had  fallen  by  the  time  the  ship's 
boat    had    carried    us    out   to    the    Orotania. 
This    evening,    at    dinner,    we    had    a    new 
experience  :    the   vacant   spaces   at   our   table 
were    conspicuous.      And   we    should    hardly 
have  imagined  that  we   should   so   have  felt 
the  absence  of  three  people  who,  not  so  very 
long   ago,  had  been  entirely  strangers  to  us. 
But  there  was  this  about  Amelie  Dumaresq 
in  particular — that  whether  she  attracted   or 
repelled  you,  you  could  not  but  be  impressed 
by  her  presence.     She  was  there,  very  much 
in  evidence ;  of  strong  and  assertive  vitality ; 
full-pulsating,  as  it  were,  with  gaiety  and  the 
enjoyment  of  life;  and  perfectly  well  aware  of  all 
her  wilfulness,  her  charm,  her  intrepid  opinions, 
and  (not  least)  the  power  of  the  laughing  blaze 
of  her  black  eyes.      Wolfenberg,  too,  in  his 
more  retiring  way,  had  grown  to  interest  us 
deeply ;  we  seemed  to  miss  the  fine,  thought- 


"TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  213 

ful,  ascetic  face,  the  sympathetic  grey  eyes, 
even  the  quietly  humorous  fashion  in  which 
he  was  wont  to  apologise  for  the  young  lady's 
audacities.  As  for  the  sad -faced  mother — 
But  she  was  content  to  remain  mostly  in  the 
background,  a  not  unconcerned  spectator  of 
what  was  going  on. 

However,  we  were  not  wholly  deserted  ;  for 
Julian  Verrinder,  seeing  these  uuoccupied 
places,  made  bold  to  come  and  take  one  of 
them,  with  many  and  modest  excuses.  And 
nothing  could  exceed  the  courteous  and 
pleasant  manner  in  which  he  tried  to  in- 
gratiate himself  with  Lady  Cameron  and  with 
our  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  offering  them  all 
kinds  of  things  they  didn't  want,  asking  them 
shy  questions  about  their  day's  doings,  and 
meekly  listening,  and  never  obtruding  a 
word  about  himself.  And  he  agreed  with  all 
their  opinions,  before  they  had  got  them  half 
uttered  ;  until  they  could  not  but  have  been 
convinced    that    he   was    a    most   intelligent 


2, 4  WOLFENBERG. 

young  man.  On  the  surface  he  did  not  pay 
much  attention  to  Emily  Eosslyn ;  but  he 
had  the  ineffable  pleasure  of  tendering  her  the 
cruet-stand,  in  the  temporary  absence  of  the 
steward,  or  he  would  venture  to  recommend 
the  fresh  salad,  or  the  olives,  or  the  caviare. 
As  for  her,  the  young  wretch  affected  to  treat 
him  as  almost  an  absolute  stranger  ;  she  would 
hardly  even  vouchsafe  him  a  timid  "No, 
thank  you  ! "  Perhaps  she  was  in  trembling 
terror  lest  some  incautious  word  or  sign  might 
betray  the  amazing  truth. 

It  was  a  beautiful  night  on  deck,  the  stars 
and  planets  lambent  in  the  deep  violet  vault. 
There  was  a  perfect  silence  :  the  famous  city 
was  far  enough  away  to  send  us  no  sound, 
while  we  guessed  that  now  there  would  not 
be  much  of  tumult  up  there  on  the  solitary 
heights  of  the  Acropolis,  near  to  the  throbbing 
and  yet  benign  and  tranquil  skies.  If  there 
could  be  anything  anywhere  out  of  consonance 
with  the  prevailing  calm  in  which  the  wTorld 


"TO  ATHENS  SHALL  THE  LOVERS  WEND."  215 

was  shrouded,  it  could  only  be,  perhaps,  in 
some  solitary  and  aching  heart,  questioning 
itself,  or  nerving  itself  for  the  future  ;  and 
such  things  are  kept  hidden  away  and  un- 
revealed. 

"Did  you  speak  to  Mr.  Wolfenberg  to- 
day ? "  asked  Peggy  of  her  friend,  as  they 
were  leaning  on  the  rail,  and  looking  across 
the  black  water  to  the  dim,  uncertain  lights. 

"  Oh  yes." 

"  And  he  is  to  be  of  the  party  at  the  hotel 
to-morrow  ? " 

"  I  understand  so." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  says ;  and  then 
she  adds,  slowly  :  "  Because — because — other- 
wise, I  don't  think  I  should  have  gone." 


216  WOLFENBERG. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

FACING   CONTINGENCIES. 

The  gods  were  good  to  Sappho  on  the  following 
day :  they  called  the  lost  Ilissus  back  to  life 
again  :  Cephissus,  also,  they  summoned  from 
his  subterranean  lair.  We  had  been  driving 
about  hither  and  thither  during  the  mornino; 
— to  a  number  of  places  it  is  needless  to 
enumerate  here ;  and  all  the  while  we  had 
been  conscious  of  an  ever-increasing  darkness 
overhead.  Indeed  it  was  welcome ;  for  we 
had  become  tired  of  that  long  j)eriod  0f  blue 
skies,  blue  seas,  and  glaring  sunlight ;  and 
were  quite  glad  to  think  of  the  coolness  of  a 
shower  of  rain.  But  there  was  more  coming 
than  we  bargained  for.  The  surrounding 
mountains  had  grown  more  and  more  sombre  ; 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  217 

they  seemed  to  draw  strangely  near,  as  if  they 
would  hem  in  the  doomed  town  ;  the  air  was 
stifling ;  the  impending  darkness  deepened, 
and  still  further  deepened  ;  what  wan  light 
there  was  came  in  horizontally,  and  touched 
the  fronts  of  the  houses  in  a  spectral  fashion. 
Then,  as  we  watched  and  waited  in  this 
ominous  silence,  of  a  sudden,  out  of  the  black 
bosom  of  the  hills,  there  leapt  a  red  flash  of 
flame ;  it  struck  down  ;  it  appeared  to  splinter 
itself  on  the  ground,  and  to  spread  itself  out 
again  in  swift  and  trembling  filaments  of  fire. 
There  was  a  low  premonitory  growl — answered 
somewhere  else.  Another  blaze  of  flame  leapt 
out  of  the  black  :  this  time  there  was  a  sharper 
rattle,  that  echoed  all  around.  And  now  the 
fun  grew  fast  and  furious ;  the  other  portions 
of  the  heavens  joined  in  ;  sometimes  there  was 
a  continuous  and  blinding  dazzle  of  crimson — 
a  chain  of  fire,  as  it  were  ;  while  the  noise  grew 
deafening — Corydallus,  Pentelicus,  Hymettus 
calling  to  each  other  across  the  awe-stricken 


218  WOLFENBERG. 

valleys.  Then  the  accumulated  black  masses 
immediately  over  us  must  needs  take  part ; 
there  were  one  or  two  knife-like  gleams  of  pink  ; 
and  at  the  same  moment  an  ear-splitting  roar 
and  clamour  that  seemed  to  say  that  all  the 
buildings  of  the  Acropolis — the  Parthenon,  the 
Propylsea,  the  Erectheum — were  coming  hurling 
headlong  down  on  the  top  of  the  devoted  city. 
And  meanwhile  the  rain  had  been  descending 
in  sheets — a  deluge  that  appeared  to  consist  of 
ten  thousand  waterspouts ;  insomuch  that  in 
an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  Athens  had 
become  completely  transfigured,  her  dry  and 
dusty  thoroughfares  changed  into  tawny  canals, 
with  a  flood  in  them  so  deep  and  opaque  that 
the  unaccustomed  horses  refused  to  go  forward. 
As  for  ourselves,  we  fled  for  refuge  into  the 
nearest  public  building,  which  chanced  to  be 
the  museum  in  which  the  Schliemann  relics 
(from  Mycenae)  are  treasured  ;  but  even  here 
we  had  to  face  cascades  of  water  that  came 
surging   along   the   open   stone   galleries  and 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  219 

down  the  wide  staircases.  But  what  did  we 
care  for  all  this  terrific  commotion — and  also 
for  having  to  wade  a  foot  deep  in  passing  from 
one  room  to  the  other — when  we  could  calculate 
on  this  amazing  storm  having  roused  the  two 
slumbering  rivers,  and,  when  we  thought  of 
the  joy  and  rapture  of  our  beloved  Sappho? 
For  we  knew  that,  as  we  went  back  to 
Phalerum  in  the  afternoon,  we  should  find 
the  Cephissus  a  whirling  and  riotous  torrent, 
sweeping  before  it  mud,  and  gravel,  and 
branches  onwards  to  the  sea,  and  also  that 
the  wide  plain  which  had  always  seemed  to 
us  so  parched  and  burnt-up  would  now  show 
silver-glancing  pools  and  lakes,  between  the 
rows  of  olive  and  vine.  Perhaps,  moreover, 
in  some  happy  moment,  we  might  discover 
the  elusive  Fountain  of  Callirrhoe,  that 
hitherto  had  been  for  us  invisible. 

But  in  the  meantime  we  had  to  keep  our 
appointment  with  the  Dumaresqs  ;  and  when, 
at  length,  after  about  two  hours'  imprisonment 


220  WOLFENBERG. 

in  this  building,  a  pale,  tremulous,  lemon-hued 
light  told  us  that  the  storm-clouds  were  lifting 
themselves  away  from  the  deluged  city,  we 
ventured  out,  and  drove  away  down  through 
those  yellow  canals  to  the  hotel.  And  here, 
in  the  long,  bare,  shaded,  foreign-looking 
apartment,  it  was  from  the  outset  obvious 
that  it  was  Amelie  Dumaresq,  not  her  mother, 
who  was  our  hostess.  She  managed  every- 
thing— arranged  everything — consulted  with 
the  landlord — directed  the  waiters.  She  was 
in  high  spirits  ;  this  little  diversion  from  the 
routine  life  on  board  ship  seemed  to  please 
her.  She  was  looking  her  best,  too ;  and  was 
very  prettily  and  neatly  attired,  with  but 
little  ornament ;  a  dagger  of  rose-red  coral 
was  effective  in  the  splendid  masses  of  her 
black  hair. 

She  took  the  head  of  the  table  as  a  matter 
of  course — to  save  her  mother  trouble.  Wol- 
fenberg  she  asked  to  preside  at  the  other  end. 
To  Paul  Hitrovo  she  did  not  give  the  place  of 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  221 

honour  on  her  right ;  his  presence  there  was 
significant  enough  without  that ;  and,  in  truth, 
she  affected  to  take  but  scant  notice  of  him. 
As  for  him,  he  remained  carelessly  quiet 
throughout  the  little  banquet ;  he  did  not 
seek  to  interfere  in  the  conversation  ;  when 
he  did  speak  at  all,  it  was  generally  some 
mere  bit  of  comment — of  a  half- cynical  and 
not  unamusingr  kind.  He  was  next  to  the 
Baby.  "  The  two  young  people  must  sit 
together,"  Amelie  Dumaresq  had  said,  be- 
nignly— playing  the  part  of  matron  and 
house-mistress. 

And  now  that  everything  was  set  going, 
the  young  hostess  proceeded  with  right  good 
will  to  entertain  her  guests,  which  for  her  was 
easy  enough.  Laughing,  chattering,  ap- 
pealing to  this  one  and  that,  revealing  the 
results  of  a  rather  malicious  observation  of 
her  fellow-passengers,  she  kept  the  ball  of 
conversation  rolling  briskly  enough  and  with- 
out effort,  so  alert,  independent,  many-sided 


222  WOLFENBERG. 

did  she  show  herself.  And  again  on  this 
occasion  she  was  merciful  to  us.  She  did 
not  hack  and  hew  at  the  pedestals  of  accepted 
tradition  ;  she  did  not  tear  down  veils  to 
exhibit  shattered  idols ;  she  even  let  Homer 
alone  —  and  was  entirely  good-natured.  If 
there  was  any  one  whose  speeches  did  not 
seem  to  meet  with  the  full  approval  of  our 
miniature  Censor  of  Morals  it  was  M.  Paul 
Hitrovo  ;  and  yet  such  chance  things  as  we 
heard  were  surely  harmless  enough. 

"  Isn't  it  sad,"  he  said,  in  a  kind  of  under 
tone,  to  the  Baby,   apropos  of  something  or 
another,    "isn't    it  very  sad  to  think  of  the 
vast  number  of  people  who  are  slaves  to  duty  ? 
It  seems  such  a  strange  superstition." 

Well,  that  was  nothing.  But  on  one 
occasion  he  did  manage  to  provoke  our  Mrs. 
Threepenny-bit  into  a  little  mild  interfer- 
ence. 

"  After  all,"  he  happened  to  say  to  that 
ingenuous  young  neighbour  of  his,  "human 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  223 

nature  is  a  good  deal  stronger  than  the  Ten 
Commandments. " 

"You  mean  that  sometimes  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments get  broken  ? "  the  small  woman 
opposite  him  put  in. 

"  Why  not  say  frequently  ? "  he  suggested, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  answered  him.  "  But  at 
the  same  time,  if  there  never  had  been  any 
Mount  Sinai  at  all,  human  nature  would  have 
had  to  invent  the  Ten  Commandments  for  its 
owTn  preservation." 

It  was  hardly  a  rebuke  ;  yet  Amelie 
Dumaresq  looked  quickly  from  the  one  to  the 
other  ;  perhaps  she  was  anxious  to  see  what 
impression  this  young  man,  in  these  more 
intimate  circumstances,  produced  on  her 
friends. 

To  outward  appearance  she  was  far  more 
attentive  to  Wolfenberg.  She  paid  him  all 
kinds  of  little  flatteries — sometimes  disguised 
as  reproach. 


224  WOLFENBERG. 

"Ernest,"  she  called  to  him,  "  don't  you 
see  that  the  very  heavens  are  interposing  to 
befriend  you  ?  This  miracle  of  a  flood  has  all 
come  about  to  show  you  the  Fountain  of 
Callirrhoe.  You  can  have  no  further  excuse 
for  neglecting  your  picture.  Why,  I  want 
those  people  on  board  the  ship  who  have  never 
seen  any  of  your  work  just  to  understand  a 
little  who  it  is  to  whom  they  say  '  Good 
morning  ! '  when  they  come  up  on  deck." 

"  I'm  afraid,  Amelie,"  he  said,  in  his  quiet 
way,  "  the  Fountain  of  Callirrhoe  has  all  gone 
away — vanished — as  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
I  have  not  thought  of  it  of  late.  It  was  only 
a  passing  suggestion." 

"  Well,  if  you  have  lost  interest  in  it,  why 
not  begin  something  else  ? "  she  demanded,  in 
her  downright  fashion.  ".  Why  not  the  Dance 
of  the  Cobras  ?  Do  you  know,"  she  said, 
turning  to  her  other  guests,  "  that  cobras  have 
the  strangest  habit,  on  moonlight  nights,  of 
keeping  their  head  erect,  and  swaying  them- 


FACING    CONTINGENCIES.  225 

selves  from  side  to  side,  and  watching  their 
shadows  on  the  ground  ?  They  seem  to  enjoy 
it ;  the  sinuous  movement  pleases  them. 
Don't  you  think  that  Mr.  Wolfenberg  could 
make  something  very  mysterious  and  imagi- 
native out  of  such  a  subject  ?  And  they  are 
said  to  be  curiously  susceptible  to  musical 
sound,  too.  Couldn't  that  be  brought  in  ? — 
a  verandah  — some  one  playing  inside — the 
beasts  charmed  out  from  their  hiding-places 
into  the  moonlight " 

"  It  makes  one's  flesh  creep  to  think  of  it !  " 
said  Mrs.  Threepenny-bit,  with  an  involuntary 
shudder. 

"  Oh,  I  like  looking  into  the  snake-cases 
in  the  Zoological  Gardens,"  said  Amelie 
Dumaresq,  cheerfully  enough.  "  But  what  I 
confess  I  cannot  do  is  to  look  into  the  monkey- 
house.  That  is  quite  different.  Any  other  beast 
I  can  stare  in  the  face — but  a  monkey — no — 
I  somehow  feel  ashamed.  It  seems  as  if  I 
were  guilty  of  impertinence — as  if  I  had  shut 

YOL.  I.  Q 


226  WOLFENBERG. 

up  a  poor  relation  in  there — and  might  at 
least  pass  on  and  pretend  not  to  see.  Don't 
his  eyes  reproach  you  ?  He  appears  to  ask 
why  he  should  be  so  treated — why  he  should 
be  put  behind  bars,  just  like  an  ordinary  wild 
beast ;  while  you  are  walking  about  at  liberty, 
in  splendid  silks  and  satins.  But  Ernest — 
come,  now — what  about  the  cobras  in  moon- 
light ?  I  really  cannot  have  those  people 
talking  to  you  as  if  you  were  one  of  them- 
selves ;  they  must  know  who  you  are  ;  I  must 
have  something  to  show  them " 

"My  dear  Amelie,"  he  said,  quite  good- 
naturedly,  "  what  is  the  use  of  painting  now- 
adays ?     Picture-buying  is  a  lost  art " 

"  Oh,  for  you  to  say  that ! "  she  exclaimed, 
in  reproachful  tones. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to  take 
to  another  way  of  earning  my  living  alto- 
gether. Shall  I  tell  you?  Very  well.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  are  aware  that  only 
sixty-seven  eggs  of  the  great  auk  are  known 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  227 

to  exist.  Of  course  they  are  extremely 
valuable.  One  of  them  was  recently  sold 
for  three  hundred  pounds.  Now  I  propose 
to  introduce  on  the  scene  an  ancient  and 
simple  sea-captain — a  whaler  or  sealer  from 
Baffin's  Bay,  or  some  such  remote  place ;  and 
he  must  have  a  circumstantial  story  of  a 
discovered  island,  where  he  found  a  heap  of 
big  eggs,  which  he  brought  home  out  of  mere 
curiosity.  He  doesn't  know  that  they  are 
the  great  auk's  eggs ;  of  course  not ;  but  still, 
the  simple  mariner  won't  accept  the  first  bid 
for  them " 

"  But  where  can  he  have  got  them,  if  they 
are  so  rare  ? "  she  interposed. 

"  I  am  going  to  make  them  for  him,"  he 
replied,  calmly.  "  An  imitation  that  will  defy 
detection — far  more  easy  than  you  think. 
Besides,  the  honest  tar's  story  would  ward  off 
suspicion.  No  doubt  the  price  of  auk's  eggs 
will  come  down  somewhat ;  but  even  at  150/. 
a  piece,  or  even  at  100/.  a  piece,  a  good  steady 


228  WOLFENBERG. 

supply — from  the  inexhaustible  stores  of  the 
sealer's  cabin — ought  to  make  one's  fortune." 

"Well,  well,  Ernest!"  she  said.  "And 
you  are  not  ashamed  to  sit  there  and  confess, 
before  English  people,  that  the  tradition  of 
wooden  nutmegs  still  lingers  in  the  American 
national  character  ? " 

But  all  the  same  his  fantastic  fancy  of  the 
moment  had  served  its  end:  it  had  drawn 
away  the  talk  from  the  question  of  his 
painting ;  and  we  had  noticed  ere  now  that 
he  was  curiously  shy  about  having  his  work 
spoken  of  before  strangers.  Amelie  Duniaresq 
did  not  seem  to  understand,  or  at  least  to 
pay  much  heed  to,  this  sensitiveness  ;  and 
in  the  present  case  it  was  of  slight  conse- 
quence ;  for  directly  she  was  off  and  away 
to  some  other  topic,  with  her  usual  happy- 
go-lucky  impetuosity.  It  was  a  merry  little 
occasion,  free  and  unrestrained,  as  one  might 
have  thought,  with  nothing  serious  at  all  about 
it.     But  women's  eyes  are  always  observant. 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  229 

That  same  night,  when  Peggy  and  her 
friend  had  secured  a  snug  corner  for  them- 
selves on  deck — the  heavens  were  all  clear 
again,  and  the  stars  were  throbbing  luminously 
over  the  dark  spaces  of  the  sea — you  may  be 
sure  it  was  to  that  midday  festivity  that  their 
conversation  turned. 

"  I  tell  you,  Missis,  I  am  convinced  of  it/ 
says  Peggy,  with  as  much  decision  as  she 
dare  put  into  her  necessarily  low  tones.  "  I 
tell  you  that  man  is  in  love  with  her,  wholly, 
entirely,  desperately  in  love  with  her — 
whether  he  himself  knows  it  or  not." 

"What,  the  Kussian  ? " 

"Not  at  all!  The  Eussian  is  only 
playing  with  her.  He  is  too  much  in 
love  with  himself  to  be  in  love  with 
anybody  else.  He  thinks  he  has  only  got 
to  look  at  you  with  his  beautiful  eyes,  and 
you  must  succumb.  He  does  not  take  the 
trouble  to  make  himself  agreeable ;  he 
expects   you   to    amuse   him  ;    and    then    he 


230  WOLFENBERG. 

smiles — and  you   are   rewarded  !      No — it   is 
Wolf enb  erg 

"You    are    speaking    of    a    married    man, 
Peggy  !  "  the  other  observes,  severely. 

"  Worse  luck,"  says  Peggy,  with  a  bit    of 
a  sigh.     "But  whether  he  himself  knows  it 
or  not,  that    man    is    in    love  with    Amelie 
Dumaresq  ;  and  this  understanding  of  theirs 
—  this    compact — this    exalted    friendship — is 
with  him  only  some  desperate  clinging  on  to 
what  he   feels  must  one  day  slip   away  from 
him.     In  love  with  her  ?     Didn't  you  see  how 
his  eyes  followed  her  wherever  she  went — as 
if  it  was  a  constant  delight  to  him  to  let  them 
rest  even   on  the    folds  of   her  dress,   or  the 
coils  of  her  hair,   or  the  outline  of  her  neck 
and  arms.     He    speaks  to    her   as  he  speaks 
to  no  one  else.     His  voice   changes  when  he 
turns  to  her — it  is  so  gentle,  so  intimate,  so 
suggestive  of  an  understanding  that  is  hidden 
from    outsiders.      Perhaps    she    doesn't    quite 
perceive  it   either.       She  is    a   little  blunt — 


FACING    CONTINGENCIES.  231 

don't  you  think? — not  exactly  thick-skinned 
— but — but  pretty  well  wrapped  up  in  herself, 
and  her  own  enjoyment  of  minute  to  minute  ? 
Of  course,  she  has  an  immense  admiration  for 
him ;  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  it  were  more 
the  artist  she  admired ;  she  is  proud  of  his 
position,  and  his  advice,  and  his  care  of  her, 
as  well  she  might  be." 

"  But  what  is  to  come  of  it  all ! "  the  elder 
woman  exclaims — and  this  is  no  new  cry  of 
hers.  "  Oh,  I  cannot  believe  it !  The  position 
those  two  hold  to  each  other  is  far  too  clearly 
defined  for  any  such  possibility ;  in  her  mind, 
at  all  events,  it  is  defined  clearly  and 
absolutely ;  hasn't  she  talked  about  it  with 
sufficient  frankness  ?  No ;  really  I  thought 
there  was  something  almost  noble  about  her 
wThen  she  first  spoke  to  me  about  it ;  she 
seemed  to  see  what  was  demanded  of  her ; 
she  seemed  to  rise  to  something  finer  than 
the  gratification  of  her  own  immediate  whims, 
and  the  flattery  of  every  one  who  comes  near 


232  WOLFENBERG. 

her.  And  why  shouldn't  he  take  her  at  her 
word  ?  He  declares  that  her  intellect  is 
downright  and  uncompromising ;  she  scorns 
illusions ;  this  exalted  companionship  of  theirs, 
when  she  grants  it  to  him,  is  granted  with 
full  and  accurate  knowledge ;  there  are  no 
hazy  possibilities  of  perilous  sentiment  hang- 
ing about  in  the  background.  Do  you  think 
he  does  not  understand  all  that  ? " 

"  I  can  see  what  his  eyes  say,"  Peggy  makes 
answer,  stubbornly.  "  Until  to-day  I  might 
have  doubted — now  I  cannot." 

But  the  elder  woman  shakes  her  head. 

"  No,  no ;  the  whole  situation  is  dangerous 
enough  without  that.  And  it  is  about 
Wolfenberg  that  I  am  concerned  :  I  think  the 
young  woman  can  take  care  of  herself.  And 
yet  again  if  it  should  turn  out  that  we  have 
been  speculating,  and  alarming  ourselves 
without  cause — or  if  something  were  to 
happen " 

"  I  know  what  would  happen  in  a  book  or 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  233 

a  play,"'  says  Peggy.  "  That  dreadful  woman 
over  there  in  America  would  die.  But  in 
actual  life  the  objectionable  people  are  a  long 
time  in  dying ;  and  in  the  meanwhile  the 
other  people,  who  may  have  been  waiting, 
have  growm  old." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  look  forward  and 
count  on  anyone's  death  ! "  says  Mrs.  Three- 
penny-bit, with  a  touch  of  asperity.  "  It  is 
inhuman — unnatural — no  matter  what  has 
happened."  And  then,  after  a  bit,  she  adds : 
"  Don't  you  think,  Peggy,  that  it  would  be  a 
little  more  just  to  both  Wolfenberg  and  Amelie 
Dumaresq  if  we  accepted  their  own  account  of 
the  relationship  that  exists  between  them — 
which  is  the  only  relationship  that  can  exist 
between  them  ? " 

"  But  even  then  ? "  says  Peggy.  "  Again 
and  again  you  yourself  have  put  the  question  : 
what  guarantee  is  there  that  such  a  relation- 
ship should  last  ?  What  is  the  bond  between 
them  ?     It  is   an   ideal    situation,   no    doubt ; 


234  WOLFENBERG. 

demanding  self-sacrifice  and  constancy ;  and 
it  may  look  beautiful  at  the  moment ;  but 
what  safeguard  is  there  against  all  the  tempta- 
tions and  incomprehensible  vagaries  of  human 
nature  ?  " 

(i  Poor  Wolfe nberg  !  "  said  the  elder  woman, 
absently ;  the  future  seemed  dark  and  enig- 
matical enough  to  her,  so  far  as  those  two 
were  concerned. 

Now  the  morning  of  our  last  day  at  Athens 
was  particularly  bright,  and  busy,  and  cheer- 
ful. "  Phaleron's  wave  "  is  clear  :  looking  over 
the  side  into  those  green  deeps,  we  could 
vaguely  make  out  objects  at  the  bottom,  though 
we  wTere  anchored  in  six  fathoms  of  water  ; 
while  farther  off  the  glassy  surface,  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  sun,  reflected  the  long  lateen  sails 
and  the  white-painted  feluccas  with  a  vividness 
bewildering  to  the  eyes.  And  here  was  our 
indefatigable  Sappho,  bustling  about  with  a 
great  sheet  of  paper  in  her  hand,  and  eagerly 
begging  for  signatures.     It  appeared  that  her 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  235 

soul  had  been  fairly  riven  within  her  by  the 
thought  that  English  hands  had  harried  the 
shrines  of  ancient  Greece  ;  and  nothing  would 
do  but  a  passionate  appeal,  on  the  part  of  us 
Orotanians,  to  the  British  Government,  praying 
that  the  Elgin  marbles  should  forthwith  be 
restored.  It  was  an  eloquent  and  tempestu- 
ously-worded document,  with  plenty  of  in- 
coherent indignation  surging  through  it ;  and 
at  the  head  of  the  sheet  was  the  following 
quotation  : 

1  Cold  is  the  heart,  fair  Greece  !  that  looks  on  thee, 
Nor  feels  as  lovers  o'er  the  dust  they  loved ; 
Dull  is  the  eye  that  will  not  weep  to  see 
Thy  walls  defaced,  thy  mouldering  shrines  removed 
By  British  hands,  which  it  had  best  behoved 
To  guard  those  relics  ne'er  to  be  restored. 
Curst  be  the  hour  when  from  their  isle  they  roved, 
And  once  again  thy  hapless  bosom  gored, 
And  snatch'd  thy  shrinking  Gods  to  northern  climes 
abhorr'd  ! ' 

"Somethinged  sentimental  rubbish!"  growled 
the  angry  Major,  when  she  had  gone — and  we 
hardly  knew  whether  he  was  audaciously  re- 


236  WOLFENBERG. 

f erring  to  the  passage  from  Childe  Harold  or 
merely  expressing  his  opinion  of  Miss  Penguin's 
proposal.  "  Do  you  think  the  English  Govern- 
ment would  listen  to  a  handful  of  irresponsible 
and  impertinent  busybodies  ?  And  if  these 
mongrel  modern  Greeks  got  back  the  Elgin 
Marbles,  what  would  they  do  with  'em  ?  Why, 
sell  'em  to  some  Yankee  hotel  proprietor, 
to  stick  about  his  staircases,  alongside  the 
cuspidors  !  " 

By  the  way,  we  never  learned  what  number 
of  signatures  Sappho  obtained  for  her  petition  ; 
nor  did  we  ever  subsequently  hear  of  its  having 
appeared  in  the  newspapers.  Perhaps,  indeed, 
at  some  odd  moment,  Phaon  may  have  eaten 
it,  so  inscrutable  are  the  decrees  of  fate  and 
the  moods  of  a  dog's  appetite. 

Our  last  day  at  Athens.  Of  course,  we 
made  our  way  back  again  to  the  Acropolis. 
And  as  we  were  toiling  up  the  steep  hill  we 
chanced  to  notice  the  solitary  figure  of  a  man 
who  was  coming  down  from  the  scarred  and 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  237 

bouldered  heights  of  Areopagus.  No  doubt  he 
had  wandered  up  thither  to  have  a  look  at  the 
wide-scattered  city  lying  far  below,  with  its 
red-tiled  roofs  and  cypress-gardens. 

"  It  is  Wolfenberg !  "  said  Mrs.  Threepenny- 
bit,  with  some  surprise.  "  And  alone  !  Why 
— surely,  the  others  cannot  have  gone  any- 
where without  him."  And  when  she  spoke  of 
"  the  others "  we  knew  she  was  thinking  of 
three. 

"  Oh,  no,  impossible  !  "  said  Peggy,  in  an 
undertone,  for  now  he  was  drawing  near. 

But  when  he  came  up,  we  found  he  had  no 
tragic  tale  of  desertion  to  tell.  He  seemed  in 
fairly  good  spirits.  Mrs.  Dumaresq  had  pre- 
ferred to  remain  indoors  this  morning ;  she 
feared  the  heat  ;  and  she  wanted  a  little  rest. 
Nor  did  Amelie  care  to  stir  out.  She  had 
been  making  some  purchases  of  millinery  ;  and 
wished  to  get  her  things  put  in  order  before 
returning  to  the  boat.  So  he  had  come 
wandering  away  by  himself,  counting  on  find- 


238  WOLFENBERG. 

ing  us  somewhere  about  the  Acropolis.  Ac- 
cordingly, we  went  on  together. 

But  when  we  had  got  up  to  that  lofty  and 
spacious  plateau,  to  have  a  farewell  look  at  the 
hills  and  the  vales,  the  distant  sea  grown  pale 
in  the  sunlight,  and  here,  close  at  hand,  the 
splendour  of  the  tall  pillars  against  the  lumi- 
nous blue  of  the  sky,  it  very  soon  became 
obvious  that  Wolfenberg  wished  to  take  this 
opportunity  to  say  something  in  confidence  to 
the  elder  woman  of  our  little  group.  They 
strolled  away  by  themselves,  and  Peggy  in- 
stinctively hung  back.  We  saw  them  go 
slowly  and  still  more  slowly,  apparently  en- 
gaged in  earnest  conversation,  until  they 
stopped  together — the  two  small  figures  out 
yonder  on  the  plain  of  tumbled  fragments  and 
dusty  weeds.  Peggy  was  silent  for  a  second 
or  two  ;  then  she  said — 

"  I  think  he  means  to  speak  to  her  about 
the  Eussian.  And  I  am  glad  of  it.  He  ought 
to  have  some  confidante.     Don't  you  think  he 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  239 

is  in  the  strangest  and  saddest  position  ?  Mrs. 
Dumaresq  is  frightened  to  say  anything  to  him 
about  what  has  happened  recently  :  do  wonder. 
She  is  quite  useless  and  helpless  with  an 
absolute  and  self-willed  girl  like  that ;  and  she 
is  mortally  afraid  of  doing  or  saying  anything 
that  may  offend  either  Wolfenberg  or  her 
daughter."  She  glanced  round  her  musingly. 
"  Isn't  it  curious  to  think  what  various  things 
have  happened  to  individual  human  beings,  up 
here  on  this  hill,  through  all  the  centuries 
since  those  stones  were  carved  ?  And  now  we 
have  come  to  the  very  latest — the  two  people 
over  yonder,  in  modern  European  dress,  stand- 
ing talking  to  each  other.  It  seems  common- 
place, doesn't  it ;  and  yet  it  might  turn  out 

to    be    something   tragic    enough "      She 

suddenly  broke  off,  and  changed  her  tone. 
"  No,  no,  I'm  going  to  shut  my  eyes,  and 
become  optimist.  I'm  going  to  look  forward 
to  Amelie  Dumaresq  herself  dispersing  away 
all  these  doubts  and  fears.     That  is  what  she 


2+o  WOLFENBERG. 

is  going  to  do.  The  opportunity  is  before  her. 
She  is  going  to  astonish  us,  and  charm  us,  and 
make  us  all  ashamed  of  ourselves,  by  showing 
herself  nothing  less  than  a  thorough  heroine  !  " 

Meanwhile,  whatever  problem  of  human 
destiny  or  human  character  those  two  were 
discussing  together,  they  were  a  long  time 
engaged  in  it ;  so  that  the  rest  of  us — in- 
cluding the  Baby  and  Julian  Verrinder,  whose 
acquaintance  with  each  other  seemed  to  have 
developed  with  some  rapidity — had  abundant 
leisure  for  our  final  look  round  ;  and  at  length, 
when  we  all  of  us  prepared  to  leave,  Peggy's 
last  word — as  she  glanced  back  to  the  beauti- 
ful temples  all  shattered  and  ruined — was 
this — 

"  Well,  Athens  did  much  for  the  Gods  ;  but 
the  Gods  never  seem  to  have  done  much  for 
Athens." 

Now  hardly  had  the  Orotania  got  under 
weigh  again  when  two  of  us  received  a 
summons    to    go    to    Mrs.    Threepenny-bit's 


FACING    CONTINGENCIES.  241 

cabin.  The  little  woman  appeared  to  be 
rather  nervous  and  excited  :  it  was  clear  she 
had  something  of  importance  to  communicate. 
"  We  had  a  long  talk  up  there,"  she  said 
(and  well  we  knew  of  whom  she  was  speaking), 
"and  never  shall  I  forget  it  as  long  as  I  live. 
I  had  some  admiration  for  that  man  before  ; 
but  now — now  that  he  has  quite  revealed  him- 
self— I  dare  hardly  say  what  I  think  of  him. 
And  there  is  no  secret  about  it ;  he  spoke 
quite  frankly ;  he  told  me,  in  his  simple  and 
direct  way,  that  we  must  all  of  us  have  seen 
the  favour  that  Amelie  was  showing  to  this 
young  Russian ;  and  he  hoped  it  would  turn 
out  for  the  best.  It  was  but  natural,  he  said. 
She  was  a  young  woman,  with  a  fresh  and 
eager  and  impulsive  enjoyment  of  the  world 
and  all  its  interests  :  who  could  wonder  if  the 
passion  of  love  came  in  to  play  its  part,  and 
lead  on  to  marriage,  and  a  happy  settlement 
of  her  life?  And  when  I  interposed,  and 
spoke  of  himself,  I  wish  you  could  have  heard 

VOL.  I.  R 


242  WOLFENBERG. 

what  he  answered.  Not  that  I  forget  a  single 
word ;  but  that  there  was  something  so  noble, 
so  simple,  so  unreserved  in  the  very  manner 
in  which  he  put  himself  out  of  the  question 
altogether.  He  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 
His  was  a  broken  life  altogether,  he  said.  If 
this  new  interest  that  appeared  to  have  come 
into  her  existence  was  likely  to  secure  her 
happiness,  that  was  everything.'' 

The  person  who  was  telling  us  these  things 
is  not  of  a  very  emotional  nature  ;  but,  all  the 
same,  her  lashes  grew  moist ;  and  she  furtively 
drew  a  finger- tip  across  her  eyes. 

"  I  thought  his  careworn  face  looked  really 
beautiful  as  he  was  speaking,"  she  went  on, 
with  an  intensity  of  sympathy  that  caused  her 
own  voice  to  vibrate  at  times.  "  There  seemed 
to  me  a  kind  of  sanctity  of  renunciation  in  it ; 
and  a  calmness,  too,  as  though  he  had  been 
contemplating  this  possibility  not  for  the  first 
time.  He  would  hardly  refer  to  himself  at  all. 
I  had  to  do  that.     I  confess  I  am  a  good  deal 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  243 

more  concerned  about  him  than  about  her. 
But  what  he  said  was  this :  '  I  put  myself 
aside  altogether.  I  had  indulged  a  foolish 
dream  :  it  must  go,  if  there  is  need  for  it  to 
go.  "Why  not  ?  What  man  has  borne,  man 
can  bear ;  a  sharp  pang  or  two,  and  life  grown 
a  little  greyer ;  but  the  years  will  go  by  all 
the  same/  And  again  he  said — but  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  the  strange  expression  of 
his  face,  in  its  calm  heroism  of  resignation  : 
he  said — 'What  right  had  I  to  think  that  a 
beautiful  young  creature  like  that,  full  of  life 
and  the  enjoyment  of  life,  should  check  the 
natural  current  of  her  existence — even  for  the 
sake  of  her  art  ?  I  was  wrong  even  there. 
If  she  must  give  up  her  work ;  if  marriage  is 
the  one  thing  to  secure  her  happiness — so  be 
it.  But  at  all  events  do  not  think  that  she  has 
broken  any  understanding,  or  betrayed  any- 
body, or  done  anything  but  what  is  perfectly 
right  and  straightforward  and  honest.  She 
knows  what  I  care  most  for — it  is  to  see  her 


244  WOLFENBERG. 

perfectly  happy  :  that  being  secured,  my  small 
affairs  can  shift  for  themselves.'  " 

"And  about  Hitrovo  ?  "  Peggy  asked. 

"  Yes,  that  was  his  chief  anxiety,  his  sole 
anxiety,"  her  friend  continued.  "  And  I  told 
him  frankly  that  Mrs.  Dumaresq  had  spoken 
to  us  ;  and  that  she  was  very  much  concerned  ; 
and  that  we  had  promised  to  make  inquiries 
at  Constantinople.  But  do  not  imagine  it  was 
to  provoke  suspicion,  or  to  ask  me  to  caution 
Amelie,  that  Wolfenberg  came  to  me.  Quite 
the  reverse.  He  had  nothing  but  commenda- 
tion for  the  young  Eussian.  He  said  it  was 
so  natural  that  Amelie  should  be  attracted  by 
him — his  singularly  good  looks — his  pleasant 
manner — his  desire  to  please " 

"  Oh,  if  he  takes  it  in  that  way,  I  am  so 
glad,"  Peggy  exclaimed,  quite  effusively.  "  I 
had  been  fearing  such  terrible  things.  I  pitied 
him  so  ! " 

"  Peggy,"  said  the  smaller  woman,  "  Ernest 
Wolfenberg  has  not  got  that  firm  mouth  for 


FACING   CONTINGENCIES.  245 

nothing.  Do  you  think  lie  cannot  bring  him- 
self to  face  the  inevitable — if  it  should  turn 
out  to  be  the  inevitable  ?  And  of  one  thing 
you  may  be  sure :  Amelie  Dumaresq  will  never 
know,  she  will  never  be  allowed  to  know,  what 
is  going  on  in  that  man's  heart,  so  long  as  he 
sees  her  happy,  and  beloved,  and  content." 
She  paused  for  a  moment  or  two ;  then  she 
said — "  Well,  that  poor  woman,  Mrs.  Dumaresq, 
has  made  a  direct  appeal  to  us.  Perhaps  we 
may  hear  something  in  Constantinople." 

And  so,  as  the  evening  came  along,  we  made 
our  way  down  towards  Cape  Colonna  ;  and 
then  the  dusk  fell  ;  and  the  dark ;  and  there- 
after we  went  thundering  onwards  through 
the  night. 

END  of  vol.   1. 


LONDON  :   PRINTED   BY   "WILLIAM  CLOTVES   AND    SONS,   LIMITED, 
STAMFORD   STREET   AND   CHARING    CROSS. 


^ir^g£ 


Talks  in  a  Library.  Putnam* 

JO  ANDERSON,   MARY  ANDER50N,  AND  WILLIAM  BLACK. 


